A Castaway's End
Encompassed by the sky above and the sea below, clouds and foam became white streaks against deep blues all around. The translucent violet aura was a balling wisp, hurtling towards an emerging mass in the distance. As it kept its course streamlining towards the horizon, the mass seemed to rise from the sea, only a blemish of green from this distance. The ball of shooting energy sharply surged, yawing in a grand arc for the sky. As soon as its motion peaked, it honed in for a dizzying spiral at the only other mass for miles: a small log raft with what could only be described as a colorful lot of cargo?at the speed it descended upon them. As if with instinct, it knew where to strike, and the bolt of violet crashed itself into the gaping maw of its original vessel.
With the sharp sound of a zip, the Toxicroak felt the limp-lying Banette in his arms twitch back to life.
"Anne?" The frog croaked. He straightened his posture to haul the Ghost-type steady back on her feet.
The Banette's glassy red eye began to flutter and refocus. She regained her sense of touch, as the chill of the blustering wind whipped about her cloth-like skin while the sun worked hard to beat upon her. Taking a few seconds for her racing mind to settle and her sense of balance to adjust, she leaned off the frog and quickly touched the broad brass zipper for a mouth.
"Something?" The Toxicroak asked, almost wearily. "Or blue?"
Regaining her bearings on the rolling tides, the Banette took a hand and bunched the skirt of her dress, preparing so as not to trip. She carefully stepped over the head of a prostrate Politoed by her feet and bent down, picking up an oar. As she stepped back into place, she gave the Toxicroak a firm tap on his bloated throat with the stick's end.
"Enzo!" The Banette exclaimed excitedly through her clasped metal teeth, motioning with the oar's blade to an unstirring Persian sprawled on the raft floor, "If only Barbosa were with us!" She then lifted the oar to point out across the clear horizon. "There's an island maybe a hundred miles this direction! Flew as fast as I could?why, we could make it by evening!" She turned back to Enzo, a glimmer in her stare. "It could be inhabited! The 'mon could be civilized! Or there could be no other soul alive!"
The Toxicroak held the worn look in his eyes as a hoarse laugh rasped from behind him. Anne couldn't hold back a light chuckle either, as behind the frog, past the few motionless bodies that were strewn across the raft, she laid her eyes on a Scizor.
Laying feebly against the low panel of the raft, the Scizor's laugh was cut short with a dry cough. He shakily raised a claw as his head rolled onto his shoulder, eyes glazed by the sun. "Arceus help us all," he rasped aloud, "if it's an island dead as me!"
Enzo let out a low, strained croak as he leered at the bug, though his attention turned back to Anne while she lightly prodded his throat again.
"You've survived worse, Vincent," cooed the Banette as she handed Enzo her oar. "Why, you're still here, and you've still got breath to damn yourself too!"
"More than Barbosa," was Vincent's shaky reply. "Hasn't moved in four days. I've been watching..."
"Enough," Enzo said in exasperation. The Toxicroak dipped the oar in the water and took a more planted stance in what little space he had around him. The Scizor wheezed another rough laugh in the back, while a humming Anne carefully stepped over limbs and necks for the other oar on board.
Just as she reached to pick it up, a wave had swept over the panels and washed the floor with salt water. The surge forced a nearby Farfetch'd to start sputtering, forcing himself awake. As Anne set her oar to the water and Enzo croaked out a cadence, they rowed to the cry of the fowl moaning for a drink. They had run out of freshwater five days ago. Everyone on board knew this, and so over the wails, Anne hummed her shanty louder.
***
The sun was a round, lit buoy, sinking into the blazing gold horizon beside the island. Anne stood tall as her soaked white dress flapped out in the gusting winds. Dropping her hand from the visored position over her eye, she said, "Enzo! Look, look! They come in droves!"
Oar still in hand, Anne carefully leaned over the edge of the raft to see dim little orbs of light, drifting beneath the surface of the water by the tens. Anne couldn't help but sing cheerfully, "Isn't it just lovely? Like swimming through a night sky!"
She looked back over her shoulder, expecting to see excitement shared on the Toxicroak's face. Instead, Enzo continued to row, almost mechanically, sweat trickling down his knitted brow as his eyes set dead ahead.
He only acknowledged her distraction with a low-rumbling croak in his throat, before breaking his silence for the first time in hours.
"I see the beacon," he said. His breath was labored. "For the mouth of the cove." Anne shot up to attention with a wide grin as her eyes scanned the coastline. There was what looked like fortress walls jutting from the rocky terrain that rose from the beach. Her eyes spied a flickering light on the edge of one, toward her left.
He ordered, "Hard on starboard."
Anne put what seemed to be her endless energy into the stroke as Enzo let his oar sit in the water as anchor. The boat began to turn toward the mouth of the cove, and as they both resumed their rowing, they started to see the lights in the water concentrate in groups. The lights grew brighter as the water gradually turned crystal clear. Any one could see now that Chinchou were idly drifting around the coastline.
As the raft pushed through the towering stone walls of the cove mouth, the flow of water was now calmed as they drifted down the channel of the island's harbor. Everywhere in the channel, piers and piles were plentiful and readily available for ships to dock. The buildings and walkways were still lit and active with citizens. It was unmistakeable now that this was the island port of Kuai. Their entire ordeal was over.
"We're here, everyone!" Anne shouted to bodies that littered the raft. "We made it! We're here, we're?"
Enzo collapsed. Anne shot her eye over as the Toxicroak fell to his knees and slumped over the side of the raft, strength gone from him, oar lost to the harbor. The Banette let out a gasp as she stepped over to the poisonous frog, taking a hand off her oar to lift his head by his horn and examine his eyes. Enzo's breathing became ragged from all the exertion that day, and his eyes began to roll back.
Anxiety began to pick its way at the Banette's seams like pins, her eye frantically darting about. Everyone on board was down and unresponsive now. Everyone was deathly still.
Dropping her own oar and tugging the tag on her mouth sealed shut as steadfast as she could, the Ghost let out a desperate Screech that rattled through her metal teeth.
"
Help us!" She frantically cried, cradling the Toxicroak's head to her chest. "
Help us! Please! Somebody! Help us! Ten 'mon down! Ten 'mon down!"
Pokemon peered over decks, out of windows, and over shoulders as a small raft piled with bodies drifted in, a screaming Banette in a sopping, tattered dress turning to look at them all with a red eye, the other completely driven in by a massive iron nail.
***
"They call me Anarchy. Anarchy Anne."
"How did this happen? Are you okay?"
The Banette was bundled tightly in towels, though she did not complain of feeling cold and barely shivered when she arrived soaked. She sat on the dry beach, high on the slope from the waves. While the sands slowly lost the warmth they harbored from the earlier afternoon sun, the evening dark and cool was staved by the small fire pit. Anarchy Anne was surrounded by Kuai natives who tried to tend to her. At first, it hadn't occurred to Anarchy that the sight of the nail piled clear through her head would be a gruesome shock to onlookers when she pulled in. She had felt no pain from it, and had quickly forgotten the other castaway's concerns back when they first saw it too. Yet, as any could see from her hands gripping her towels close, she already wore pins: two pearl push pins that held her dress' long sleeves in place?by sticking full through her wrist. The natives involved with her learned to take the strange species' word that she, at least, was not in pain from those. Although she did mention she was just a bit sore from rowing.
"We were just a trade ship on route to here, in fact," Anarchy said, and a native chimed with a word to Arceus for her luck. "But our ship went under in a great storm. It was a disaster." She only stared into the flames before her, the light dancing in her eye and a white glint in the head of her nail. The Banette could feel the worry, pity, dismay, and even fear waft off the natives who sat around her, their emotions like a tangible aura soaking into her skin like water. She became on edge with a feeling like an anxious verve she knew wasn't reflective of the disappointment she was supposed to feel.
Another asked how many were her crew.
"Fifteen of us. Five lost to sea." The last line rang hollow of emotion.
Sixty paces away, their wood raft sat beached, a track in the sand ran from the water where natives hauled it in. Missing a number of oars, the raft only had five left. Scattered with them around the log-bound floor, there were a rags of clothing, a couple tin pails to scoop out seawater, a rolled up sheet of large sewn-together jungle leaves as a rain cover, and a few pound barrels which once held drinking water. Laid out beside the raft were her fellow castaways, most sporting old, dirtied, stained gauze bound around parts of their half-starved bodies. Natives were swarming them, feeding water from pitchers, cups, and canteens to the three who could be roused to conscience: Enzo, Vincent, and with great effort, just barely the Persian. Every one of the bodies were being wrapped in dry cloth to keep them warm.
Anarchy turned her head to the sound of a shout. Behind her, a Nuzleaf native clambered down stone terrace stairs from the upper market story, hands in the air as he ran across the sand between the two parties.
"Doc's a-coming!" The Nuzleaf shouted. "Doc's a-coming! Get'em poor folk ready aboard! We need strong'uns fer liftin'! Strong'uns fer liftin'!"
Several of the citizens surrounding Anarchy stood, being able-bodied Pokemon who looked physically prepared to handle dead weight. As they excused themselves and walked off, a native gave Anarchy a pat on her back, and gingerly asked, "Maybe you'd like to talk with the others who are awake now?"
Anarchy gave a silent nod as she stood from the dissipating circle of Pokemon, moving with the herd to the raft.
"Anarchy!" Vincent, the Scizor, called when she was a trot away. Enzo sat beside the red insect, peering out the corner of his eye to her as he downed a bowl of fresh water.
"Vincent!" Anarchy called back with a wave, setting herself down in front of the two. "And Enzo! See now? I
told you we'd make it," she whispered excitedly. "I
told you!"
Vincent let out a chuckle, the water from the canteen in his pincer had wet the rasp out. "Never doubted you for a second, Anarchy," he said. "It was just a waiting game, then. You got us through Carajol on that rotting piece of driftwood. Damn near surprised it held together that long, eh, Enzo?"
The Toxicroak continued to drink his water, looking away. Vincent eyed him expectantly; Anarchy grinned knowing Vincent was not one to have his questions hang rhetorically. When the poisonous frog finished his bowl, he murmured solemnly, "Hope Emmanuel comes through."
Vincent glowered now at Enzo, quick to spit, "
Monkey ain't dead. None of us are. Guilt me for a joke, but we ain't dead in the water." Enzo kept his eyes on the bowl, saying nothing. Instead, he stood himself up in his towels and walked over to the unconscious Passimian a few paces away, joining another native as they inspected Emmanuel.
Anarchy looked as the other bodies had been lined up in a row. Other than the carpenter Emmanuel, there laid a shivering Politoed, a coughing Farfetch'd, and a silent lot of a Salandit, Heliolisk, Granbull, and Drilbur. As something suddenly grabbed at her arm, Anarchy turned to face Vincent's tired and intent gaze.
"Anarchy," he softly pried, "I was telling you the truth."
"Which truth?"
"That I never doubted you for a second. I'm alive because of you. And so's Barbosa. Look,"
Vincent let go of her arm and pointed a claw over her shoulder. Following his direction, she saw a Persian?a meek huddle under sheets of cloth, craning his neck to lap at a bowl of water placed by his head. As the Banette's eye lit up with excitement, she felt the pincer press against her cheek and tenderly tilt her head back to face him.
"I love that look on your face," he breathed.
There was a gentle look in the Banette's eye as it locked with his, before she lurched back on her hands and planted the soles of her little leather boots square on Vincent's forehead.
"Wh?" He didn't have time to finish as with an unexpected and immense power, Anarchy kicked off and sent the Scizor smashing flat on his back, while she continuously somersaulted seamlessly and effortlessly toward the Persian.
As Vincent shouted curses that caught nearby native's attention, the rolling ball of towels that Anarchy had become just stopped short of the feline Pokemon, who let out a startled yell. Now sitting on her rump with her legs sprawled and her hands on her toes, Anarchy nearly doubled over laughing as she tried to stop her eye from rolling around too.
"... Anne?" A cracking voice came from the gaunt-faced cat. Anarchy held her laughter for a bit as she nodded.
"We made it!" Out came her hushed excitement again. "We made it to land! We made it to Kuai!"
"Anne," Barbosa mumbled, half-lidded, sunken eyes peering up at her. "I'm weak..."
Anarchy picked up Barbosa's bowl of water, easing its lip to his. His tongue quickly lapped it. "A doctor is coming soon for all of us, Captain. You'll get your ol' strength back!"
"Please Anne," the Persian quietly begged, holding his raw stare. The remnants of a rolling, rhythmic island accent cropped through as he spoke. "I've lost ship? I've lost crew? Of what am I captain?"
"Of me," she protested. "Of the survivors!"
Barbosa shut his eyes. "It was Providence... I did jack shit."
Before Anarchy could counter, the sound of a bell came with the encroaching night?and with it, the sound of clopping hooves and wooden wheels jolting against stone. The Nuzleaf cried, "Doc Keahi a-comin'," as a Mudbray-drawn wagon came into view, descending from a roadway through the upper market and down onto the beach. The face of the wagon was illuminated on either side with two hanging lanterns, burning brightly. Sitting in the front seat with a rein wrapped around either little arm was a Gloom, a burlap headwrap tied around the bud atop her head. As the doctor pulled on the reins to stop the pair of foals in front of the commotion, she unwound the ropes from her arms and leapt off to the ground.
The doctor shouted as she kicked up sand trotting over, "Kaipo, take the reins! Anybody with muscle, get ready to load folks on the back soon as I'm done their check!" The Nuzleaf responded back with an earnest "Aye," as he went to take Doctor Keahi's place at the wagon. Natives were quick to cart the bundled bodies off, as one by one, the Gloom did cursory vital checks. It was clear the doctor was only checking to see if the bodies weren't already lost. The natives watched in tense relief as all of the immobile members of the castaway crew were deemed clear to board the wagon.
Doctor Keahi finally made it over to the remaining four conveniently grouped together: Enzo had walked over to help Vincent off the ground, just a short walk from Anarchy, her back turned to them all as she held a bowl of water in her lap from Barbosa. The feline had a paw over his face as if in mourning.
"Don't look dead to me," quipped the Gloom, rubbing her cheek as she peered them all over in her squint. "Except maybe that ol' Persian."
Anarchy whipped her head around and shouted, "He ain't dead!" Upon seeing the head of a nail in place of an eye on the unfamiliar Pokemon, the doctor fell back in a scream:
"
You neither!"
Laughs rang out from Vincent behind as a grinning Anarchy jumped to her feet, the bowl of water splashing some in her hand. "Sure as they call me Anarchy Anne! This here nail hurts me none," Anarchy said with a firm knock to its head. It didn't budge. "I'll be fine. But my captain can hardly stand." She motioned to the Persian, who laid silent. "He's to be carried. Enzo and Vincent and I, we can walk ourselves on board," she asserted, skipping across the sand to stand before the two with her arms at her hips. Cheekily she taunted, "That so, men?"
The Toxicroak and Scizor exchanged glances. Vincent tutted and gave a wry smile as he shambled past Anarchy. Enzo gave a low, throaty croak as he sauntered over to help up a frazzled doctor, warning her to watch his claw. Another bulky native appeared and assisted in picking up their Persian cargo.
Anarchy dashed past Vincent on her way to the wagon, giggling as she glanced back at the pincered Pokemon with a bright eye. She thought to return his grin before she went about her business with the Nuzleaf assistant. Soon as she turned away, Vincent returned to grinding his teeth, grimacing from pain as he tried to straighten his leg with every step.
Under his breath, he cursed Enzo's name.
***
"Wayfare & Company?" Doctor Keahi asked the five at the table.
Her kitchen was modest in her small cabana-styled home, the table nothing more than a slab cut from a large tree trunk and the seats were straw-stuffed cushions on the floor. Bowls of water and plates with small servings of berries and steaming roasted Chinchou sat in front of her guests. As it was now late in the evening, small torches on the walls were lit, shedding a warm glow to augment the moonlight that shone through a net screen door. Anarchy, Enzo, and Vincent sat together; joining them was Barbosa and Emmanuel the Passimian, who emerged from their dismal states just enough to insist they be seated.
Barbosa continued, "Correct. Headquartered in Liverte, Sonara." Despite the look in his sunken eyes and the occasional crack in his voice, his tone kept the formality his life's position always demanded of him.
Keahi took a sip of her tea. "Never heard of them. Not a big name in the trade business, huh?"
Barbosa leered from under his brow at the Gloom, but she didn't seem to notice as the bowl eclipsed her face. He cleared his throat. "I am?was?Captain of a once-proud seaworthy vessel, loaned to Wayfare for our use by the esteemed Admiral Charles Gallagher."
Vincent rolled his eyes at the word, "esteemed", but at the mention of the Admiral's name, Keahi opened her own eyes and lowered her bowl from her mouth. Now she seemed more enthralled, and Barbosa couldn't help but give a faint, sardonic smile.
The Persian went on. "I, Fillmore Barbosa, and my small crew had annexed some of the Admiral's
seafarers?" to the beat of a Scizor's scoff?"to amass a total of 15 crew. Here with me now are my original Gunner and Navigator respectively: Vincent Sterling, the Scizor over there, and Anne, the?" Barbosa eyed the Ghost-type, whose species he admittedly had never crossed before in his life, and Anarchy couldn't remember what her kind were called, either. "... Touch of femininity in our group," he concluded.
Anarchy sat patiently with a bright smile at Barbosa, and he softly returned it. Vincent gave a proud grunt to Barbosa before going back to picking his fourth skewer of Chinchou.
"As well as," Barbosa went on, not to leave the Toxicroak and Passimian waiting, "additions from the Admiral's fleet: Enzo Teller, our Toxicroak Striker, and temporarily alleviating the former duties of my Boatswain is our Carpenter, Emmanuel Igboh." He tipped his head to the muscular lemur sitting beside him, who stopped gnashing on his handful of berries to give a stalwart nod. Enzo was busy drawing his third bowl of water from the jug at center table.
Keahi set her bowl down and rubbed her cheek, eyes shut again as she hummed in thought. "Well, pleased to meet you bunch at a sit-down, rather than back there with the rest." Anarchy couldn't help but glance back behind her at a screen door left slightly ajar. She could peer through the sliver into the next room, and saw as the Nuzleaf Kaipo tended to several occupied beds. As he passed between shadows and light in there, she caught a glimpse of a bucket in his one hand and a dripping rag in the other. The doctor continued, "You've got some spirit to be up after the way you were, yah. Somebody up there likes you bunch."
Vincent tapped his claw on the table with a hard scowl. "Liked us enough to sink our whole damn ship in a storm and kill a third of our crew," he derided, "Arceus, Our All-Loving Father. Struck us down for all that sin on one deck."
Barbosa struck him a glare across the table. "Sterling?"
"Must've been from all those damn pirates," The Scizor finished, leering out the corner of his eyes at Enzo and Emmanuel.
Anarchy slammed her hands on the table, standing up from her cushion. "We washed up on the southernmost point of Antara!" The trembling excitement in her voice hushed the others up, a glint in her eye as she rapt the Gloom's attention. "Not all together, of course! But after a day of scouting and gathering the rest of us up, I and those who were able went out to forage for food and a good shelter in the jungle's treeline! Ambushed by wild ferals even, and strong too, but we're a seafaring folk through and through, and we put up a nasty fight even if we had lost all our weapons in the wreck! Not to say we came out of it unscathed, but we came out of it with our lives!"
Emmanuel piped up. Like Barbosa he had an accent foreign to Sonara; unlike Barbosa, his was stronger, more enunciate, and seemed of a different place. "Yes," he began, his words sounding thick in his mouth though he had just swallowed his food. He leaned over the table to look Anarchy in her eye, giving her a firm smile. "If not for our
coop'a-ra-tion as a team,
sure-ly our part of troubles be o-ver!
Tch, yaa, mine God!" He shook his head at that. Enzo straightened his back and crossed his arms, eyes down on his lap, avoiding Vincent's still steady gaze.
Anarchy chuckled at the Passimian's interjection, agreeing. "Thanks to mainly you and Enzo, we were able to bind up some of our men and find good shelter, before heading out days later to stumble upon that town of, of?"
"Half-savages," quipped Barbosa, stopping his lapping of water for the interjection. Emmanuel shifted back in his seat, giving Barbosa a bit of an uneasy glimpse before Anarchy commanded attention again.
"Uncivilized natives," the Banette continued, "But they were able to give us some medical attention! It wasn't the best, but it helped bind us up of some fearful sprains and gashes."
Barbosa interrupted again, a bitter edge to his tone now. "And that was as far as their sympathies extended. Despite explaining our dire situation as castaways, their fishermen refused to be charitable for we who had nothing. They refused to give us a boat so we could stop intruding on their land, since they clearly treated us like a nuisance. To tell us we had to
buy a boat from them when all our treasures have sunk to the sea floor is an unjust mockery. But of course, Providence made a way."
Enzo raised his hand. "'Scuze me," he grunted. Everyone turned to look at him as he stood from the table. "Thank you," he said to Keahi, before turning to leave.
"To bed, Teller?" Barbosa asked Enzo. The Toxicroak gave a quick nod, receiving good night wishes from the table before he walked off. The table could hear a deep churning croak in his throat as he headed into the ward room, shutting the door behind him as the hushed, familiar voice of Kaipo greeted him.
Vincent, finished with his plate, stacked his atop of Enzo's. He then clasped a pincer on the edge of Anarchy's completely untouched plate and began to slip it his way. The Ghost-type saw and the two quietly tittered amongst themselves as Barbosa continued to the doctor.
"Yes, Providence made a way. Teller and Sterling were able to procure some equipment for Igboh and the rest of our able crew to help craft a raft." Emmanuel straightened his posture and beamed with pride. Vincent stopped his playing with Anarchy at the mention of his surname with Enzo's, He glanced back at the door of the ward, which was now silent. Subconsciously, he shifted his broken leg. The doctor had bound it in a splint after an examination in the ward, prior to dinner.
Anarchy piped up one last time, brimming with glee, "And we were able to sneak us some drinking water, too! We set to rowing and now we're here! In Kuai!" She gave a little clap to contain herself. "It was eleven days by raft, and we ran out of food and water a week in, but we made it to Kuai, where we needed to be!"
Emmanuel extended a hand over Barbosa to Anarchy, stating, "Anarchy's
spe-ci-al gift, ye? Without her gift, we
sure-ly would not have made it across the blue! Blind without our
navi-gator, ye?" He shook his head, giving Barbosa a firm pat on the back as he gave a short lament. "
Tchyaa, our God is good, o!
Yehh, na na."
The Gloom nodded, and finally, she stood. "That's a story, if I ever heard one," she exclaimed, wiping a bit of spittle from the corner of her mouth. "But now you're here without a ship and no goods for Gallagher." Vincent gave a snort at that.
"So what?" He jeered, his claws snapping menacingly. "Almost lost our damn lives! Woe to his mum if that snaggletooth'd slack-jaw worked the nerve to?"
Barbosa was quick to chime in. "Please excuse Sterling," he reproved over the scowling Scizor and a giggling Banette. "Sterling forgets Charles Gallagher's position. He is an Admiral, an Ex-Marine; clemency is not out of his powers, especially for all the suffering one of his best merchant crews endured at a blind act of Arceus. We will be pardoned."
Doctor Keahi rubbed her cheek in thought yet again. "Well, all that stranded mess on the side, must've taken up more time than you'd liked. How do you even know he's here now?"
"I saw," said Anarchy. "There was a grand airship back at the docks painted all black, sleek design, made for luxury! It's gotta be his! Gallagher must be here for a getaway in the Novayas, and wanted to take care of merchant business on the side. He wouldn't leave here yet if he were expecting important cargo first."
Keahi waved her hand as if to agree with the hypothesis, and went around the table collecting empty dishes. "If you say so. Then you'll probably want to head down to The Captain's Ire tavern tomorrow, if he's worth his salt." She stacked the plates atop of her headwrap'd head, which balanced perfectly level?then she pointed her arm at Anarchy. "Just you," she clarified. "You're the only healthy one here. The others all need rest and treatment. Even that blue fella, pushin' it today! He needs a long soak; he was dry of water in and out!"
Before the predictable protest from Vincent, Anarchy asked the doctor where the Captain's Ire was. To which she replied as her arms were now full of bowls, "I'll tell you tomorrow morning. You all best get to bed."
The crew thanked her for her services as she set the dishes in a bucket beside a well pump, and she turned and wished them good night. Her patients then quietly filed in line back into the ward.
***
The last to enter, Vincent was sure to close the door shut behind him. In the dark room whose only lights now were the moon and stars that flooded through a tall, curtain-drawn window, the last of the Wayfare crew quietly shuffled into the ward. He kept a small smile as he discreetly guided a pincer before him, gently skimming it against Anarchy's waist. The Banette, draped in the cast shadow of the ambling Passimian in front of her, twisted around to give the Scizor a curious stare with her eyes. Vincent leaned in and whispered, "You're not going to leave me tomorrow, are you?"
She smirked. "You're a grown man," she retorted, softly so only he could hear. "You'll follow if you've the mind to."
The line of four broke apart as they approached their cots. These were as plain as could be: their low frames were tied rods of bamboo and their mattresses burlap stuffed with straw. A single quilt was neatly made over the mattress, a courtesy of the Nuzleaf assistant, Kaipo. The doctor's ward luckily had just enough beds for the ten castaways, and as Barbosa soundlessly slunk back to his own in the back of the room, he passed his eye over every one. Each 'mon, he recalled their name and position on his crew, solemnly sounding off in his head.
The Heliolisk, Granbull, and Salandit were pirates, provided as additional and all-encompassing Armorers, Cannoneers, and Security for the then-new merchant ship loaned under Gallagher's name. They were fighters, but now they laid sprawled limp on their beds. The moonlight illuminated what was not under their covers: cleanly-threaded wounds and fresh new gauze tied over injuries suffered from Antaran ferals.
The Farfetch'd Boatswain, originally from the merchant guild, and the Drilbur Chaplain bore other abuses. Lying in their beds, the contours of multiple splints took shape beneath their sheets. They had potentially been out of commission the moment they washed up on shore, after the violent force of the shipwreck and its debris broke bones. Barbosa, just a few strides away from his cot now, stopped at one just before.
The mattress on this one had been replaced, and instead sitting on the bed frame was a narrow tub carved in one piece from wood. Filled halfway with well water, lying mostly submerged within, a Politoed sat wearing a soaked rag draped over his forehead and eyes. His closest associate for years. Philip Kelpsy was Barbosa's First Mate during guild operations in Liverte, a competent deckmaster who doubled his administrative duties as a Clerk. Yet, as Barbosa looked on, he saw the toad still trembling in his sleep. The fever Kelpsy had contracted nearly ten days ago still plagued him now.
There was a low, distinctive croak behind the Persian, as across from Kelpsy was a similar sleeping arrangement?the yellow eyes of a Toxicroak peering over the edge of his tub to meet the Persian's.
Enzo spoke. "Look. To his chest."
Barbosa's eyes lingered on Enzo's, distant and tired stares matched as the Persian seized up in hesitance. With his will already downtrodden, Barbosa let his mind go to dark places about what could have marred his friend's chest, what ugly wound he bore. Breaking away from his mind's own grip, Barbosa braved a crane of his neck over Kelpsy's body, only to see that pressed to his chest, the toad's hand held a tattered tricorn hat. The feline stood still, silent.
"Oh look, Captain!" Barbosa glanced back to see Anarchy standing on her cot, her boots on still, back bent forward and her eye narrowed to get a better view of the Persian's business. She pressed on in her quiet enthusiasm, falling flat back on her rear atop her bed. "Kelpsy kept your hat ever since you fainted on the raft! He tried to keep it safe for you!"
Barbosa shook his head with teeth grit as he crawled back into his own bed. "I am not a captain," he said, curling into himself with his back to the others, "to have outlived a third of my crew that day."
"My life has no value to you, Captain?" The bulk of fur did not budge, though everyone else's eyes turned to the silhouette of a familiar creature, sitting on the side of the cot which laid outside the light of the moon?save for his red pincer and a splinted leg. "We who are still here to even give you respect?"
"Hmph,
nyama-ye." Eyes shifted to the Passimian lying on his cot, flat on his stomach. His fingers were dipped in a bowl of drinking water, provided beside each bed. Resting on his cheek, Emmanuel kept his eyes on the thatch ceiling, his ever diligent tone he moderated in the silence. "
Cap-i-tain, ya?" He sucked his teeth. "Is what you
are. You are my
inspi-ra-tion. Throw your hope away, and I fear for you. Do not let your tongue speak curse over you-nah. Speak
life. If you are not my Cap-i-tain, then who will I be for? What will I do? If you are not my Cap-i-tain, then am I good for no-thing?
Aah-yo. Let it not be so-
ah."
Silence filled the room again. In it, Enzo nested his only addition: "You are needed."
The ball of fur heaved as a breathy sigh rose from it. "Anne," it quietly posed.
"Yes Captain?"
"Whatever the doctor says? so long as I can stand, it is only fair that I go with you tomorrow, to seek out the Admiral. It is ultimately my responsibility to claim over the events that transpired. My ship went down. I go with it."
"But it was neither your fault nor mine!" Anarchy protested under her breath, pulling her covers around her shoulders as she hiked her knees to her chest.
Vincent's voice agreed from the shadows. "That storm felt impossible. Didn't even see it 'til the rain blinded me."
Anarchy hugged her quilt tighter. "It blew in so quickly, while the skies were sunny and blue and the wind was dying. Clouds blacker than pine tar, they were! None of us saw it coming, and?"
A sound like a deep, throaty groan cut her off. Anarchy glimpsed over to see Enzo slumped in his bath, eyes shut as he softly snored.
Wearily, Barbosa impressed, "Tomorrow."
The captain wished them all good night, where the other three returned their wish to him and each other before sounds of covers shuffled and straw gave way to resting bodies. As the room fell to the nightly quiet, only Anarchy stayed awake, hunched over her knees and swathed like a cocoon in her cover. She stared at the thin linen curtains drawn over the window for the rest of her time there. A Ghost who never slept, she waited for the silver glow behind the curtain to slowly burn gold.