Sitting in the cramped pilot’s cabin of the Gryphon’s Wings, Erminea Galatea Kleinhoff, Galleycat to her father, Erm to her friends, and Captain to her crew, looked down at the splay of cards in her hand and frowned at the injustice of it all. Her officers were, once again, taking all of her pocket coppers, and even some of her silver for a third night in a row. None of the bastards even had the grace to look contrite at her being fleeced so thoroughly.
Her father had warned her for years that getting too chummy with her crew could lead to them taking advantage of her, or that becoming too familiar by, say, playing cards with them once a week as she did now, would lead to them either losing to curry favor, or showing a lack of respect by winning; and the crew lacking respect for their captain was the greatest first step on the road to mutiny.
Erm disagreed with this on several points, but until she had been raised to her Captaincy of the Gryphon Wings she had always nodded to her father, the Admiral, and said simply and crisply “Sir.” Once she had the crew put together, and had settled in after a year together, they were now all considered her family.
She would discipline them when they needed reminders, but they had bled for her, and she had bled for them. Now, to keep the upper decks as a solid and cohesive unit, they played cards once a week. She set aside a small pouch of mostly coppers from her own chest as fodder for these games, and the officers and she would talk about the crew, the ship’s needs, the upcoming commissions that the Admiral had arranged for them.
These games bred cohesion, and served her needs as their captain. She learned more from the table chatter about not only her officers, but about the lower deck crews than she had ever learned at her father’s side during her years as his First.
But these deals were KILLING her tonight. Seven suits, and not a card higher than a six in an hour. If the dealer had just been one person, she would have called them a cheat and had them tossed to the southern storms for these shitty cards. But the deal rotated around the table. Each hand by a different dealer. She had dealt herself a slew of unmatched, low numbers four times.
“I’m having a thought, Captain.” Gern, her First said in his slow, low, sonorous voice he used when inside the ship. On any deck, his voice was a clarion call, and could deafen anyone standing too close to him as orders flew from his cavernous maw.
“Are you, Mister Gern?” she asked with a sly smile, raising a thin black eyebrow above her deep black right eye.
“Ooooh, you be careful here Gern. You get too clever and the Cap’ll have all your coins, and coins you ain't met yet!” Kroner, the ship’s provisioner and Galley Officer had a wheezy voice that cackled out from his ruddy, always peeling, sunburned face. His wispy white hair floated about his face as he laughed, making him look like he was a ghost, despite being upright, talking, and winning too many hands tonight by far.
“Hrrrm. I’m thinking, captain, that you may want to just hand the last of your coins to Kroner, Harpy and myself tonight, and make an early night of it. Kroner said there will be fish buns at second bell.” Gern exhaled slowly. Blinked. And with a look first to Harper “Harpy” the ships weapons officer, and only educated officer aboard, then to herself before he extended his arms carefully at the cramped little table. “I believe, Madam Captain. love you as we all do, tonight is not your night for the cards.”
With that, Gern laid out his fan of ten cards. all one suit, and all in order from five up through the royals to the Polestar.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Harpy let loose a single, quiet “Fuckknuckles.” as she laid out her own hand, which could have won the round had Gern not just laid down a High Swell. Kroner cackled more, and tossed his cards to the middle of the table, and just said “Ha! Look at that, and me with just a few Royal Triples.”
Everyone, even the two officers on the bench playing Coronets, looked at Erm as she laughed, and raked all of the cards on the table together into her hands, hiding the shame of her draw for this round. There were some disappointed sounds from a few of her officers, and even a “Come on, Cap!”
“No!” she laughed. “It’s enough to know I lost, you don't need to see the full calamity of my hand to know I’ve conceded this round.”
More noises of distress followed her as she stood, and with a considerably good natured flourish, dropped the last silver from her bag into her hand, and flipped it to Gern. “With that, my lovelies, I am out. Steal each others’ money now. I’m for a last round on deck, and then to bed.”
She paused abruptly at the door. “Those will be the spicy fish buns, Mister Kroner? At Second Bell?”
The red-faced man looked panic stricken for a moment, and tugged at the crisp white collar of his shirt for a moment, as he paused in thought. “YES, Cap! I have Piotr on duty tonight, and he doesn't know how to make anything without invoking the very Flames of Agyar herself.”
Two of her officers, one of them Harpy, made signs to ward off the Evil Shadow of Agyar, Queen of Three Hells.
Everyone laughed, though; Mate Piotr had been raised making spicy dishes in his family’s Inn in Vyoshi before taking to the Sea. Everyone in Vyoshi, apparently, thought “spice” was the most important food group, rather than just a flavor additive.
Erm laughed, and gave her bridge crew a smile as she turned, closing the door behind her.
The smile dropped from her face as she turned, and stalked along the main deck, headed towards the mizen from the main mast. The navigator stood by the stern rail, near where one of the midshipmen held the wheel.
“Brunson?” She asked the navigator.
“Three days out, Captain. Following and hard Southerly winds have us a few days ahead of schedule. We may want to lay off the harbor after we unload. There may be a storm a day behind us.” the old man said, concern lacing his voice.
“Noted. Talley?” She nodded to the young man at the wheel.
“Well enough.” He said. Then the older man squinted at the much younger sailor. “He’d do better once he learns to stop holding the wheel in a deathgrip, though. I can hear his knuckles cracking almost every quarter bell. He’ll have most of the skin off of his own palms by dawn at this rate.”
“We all learn.” She smiled to herself as she said it.
“Oh. Aye, Captain.” the elder sailor agreed. “Do we have a new cargo lined up for our return trip?”
At that, Erm frowned. “Mister Talley! To the Galley, get me my evening tea, and let Piotr know I will be expecting breakfast to be ready at Second!” She snapped, and with a neck-breaking nod, the young man dashed off toward the galley. She then turned to her navigator. “Not yet, Mister Brunson. My father will have something set up for us. We may be going to war. I’ve heard from the Admiral that he has a young princeling lined up to do some privateering work for. Someone, somewhere who wants a throne sooner than the Fates has so far deemed proper.”
"Oh? Captain, that’s risky work.”
She looked out across her ship, then at the gently rolling sea before answering. “The Admiral says we have been promised the role of Kingdom Navy, and gold and titles if this little bloodthirsty princeling gets his Crown.”
“Ah, yes. I see. And what if he fails?” the older man asked.
Erminea Galatea Kleinhoff, Captain of the Gryphon’s Wings, and her father’s favorite daughter, smiled widely, letting her very sharp teeth show in the moonlight. “Then, we merely get to raid off the coast of his kingdom until his bid fails, and we make new fortunes off of the cities on his shores and along his rivers.”