The silence slowly went from sombre respect to being kind of awkward. Sensing that the ship's past crew and current predicament were a soft point Morgan tried to shift the conversation.
“Hey ahh, Ship. I've kinda been thinking of you as an it this whole time, which is starting to feel a little rude, with you being sentient and all.”
The creaking clicks that he recognized as the ship's laughter echoed around him. It was softer than before, it felt like a slight chuckle people sometimes make to ease built-up tension, even if what was said wasn't particularly funny. Morgan felt a slight smile touch his lips as well, he wasn't super in touch with the cultural trend of asking for people's pronouns, especially since he'd lost touch with many of his old friends. The people he worked with as a construction labourer certainly didn't help the matter either. Still being a ship he didn't really have much to go on.
“So people in my culture have a tendency to refer to a ship, well all ships- but we uh, we tend to refer to them like women. That feels slightly better than calling you an it, is that alright with you or do you have another preference?”
He stuttered a little bit and his voice squeaked in a way he found deeply embarrassing. He found himself cursing his lacklustre social skills as a slight blush hit his cheeks over talking to a bloody ship of all things. There was a short pause and he could feel that the Ship was considering the question, which apparently it hadn't been asked before. A kind of warbling creak that almost sounded like a “hmmmm” before a small rumble shuddered up and down the ship.
“Did… did you just shrug?”
The ship did it again, although this time accompanied by its clicking laughter. Though the reply was mainly a sense of light mirth, he felt it accompanied by a sense of affirmation. Okay well she it is then he thought. One of the lanterns' lights started to glow brighter than the others. Recognising it as a signal from her, Morgan made his way over to inspect the area. Much of the cargo hold was empty, the few remaining crates pried open and empty, the jugs, pots and amphoras mostly broken. But underneath the light he saw one crate that was still completely sealed. With excitement building he couldn't help grinning as he rung his hands while doing small hops on the balls of his feet. He stopped when he felt his junk bouncing around though. For some reason thinking of the sentient ship as female had made the keen reminder of his nakedness bring a fresh flush to his cheeks. Morgan cleared his throat a couple of time and gulped, trying to clear his dry throat.
“Alright lass is this one for me? Can I open it?” A note of ascent rose from the ship and he eagerly began prying the lid open. Without a crowbar it took him a couple of tries, but on his last attempt after getting into a decent position and small shudder came from the ship and vibrated through the crate as the lid came off with a “thhwwoopp”.
Catching himself quickly, taking care not to step on any broken shards of pottery as he righted himself, Morgan took his first look into his loot crate. There wasn't a magic sword in there, there was however something else which was arguably of far greater value to him at the moment. Fresh. Food. Morgan didn't know how the bundles of it were fresh and at this point with all the other weird juju he didn't really care. He grabbed a loaf of bread from the top and immediately began greedily scarfing it down. A satisfied grumble came from the ship as he couldn't help moaning in delight from the food. The contents of the crate were sorted into two sacks, as well as a few loose items. Chief among them were what he recognised from some RPGs he'd played to be water skins. There were six large water skins in total. Four of them were dark grey and the last two were a dark, rosey red. Taking one of the grey ones he opened it up and to his relief found them filled with water. He took a grateful sip of it, though he did indulge a little he refrained from drinking too much, afterall he didn't know when he would get more. The red ones, much to his delight, had the rich, fruity scent of wine. Savouring the rich scent, Morgan reluctantly resealed the skin. Those he thought to himself, he will save for later. Opening up the second sack he found it filled with a number of fruit that Morgan later recognised as a kind of pomegranate. After he gathered up the supplies, splitting the water skins and wine between the two sacks Morgan decided he would see if he could solve another issue while he was here.
“Hey lass” he called to the ship.
“I can't thank you enough for the food and water, you may well have just saved my hide here” he said, gesturing with the sacks for emphasis. A groan shuddered past him, leaving a sense of pride and pleasure in its wake. He almost bit down his next question, but he had to ask.
“So I was wondering by any chance… would you have any spare clothes?”
There was a long pause before she spoke again. Even though she wasn't making sounds to convey her thoughts, somehow he still got an impression from her. It was a complex thing, a mix of emotions that blurred together. The only clear thing he picked up was that she was conflicted about something. Finally she spoke, a complex series of grating groans, clicking, popping and plopping from the water that had flooded in. He didn't feel any impulse directed at him though, only the vague sense of concentration. Morgan listened intently to the strange sounds and slowly, they resolved into words.
“PRrWwwOMmiisse” The sounds resolved themselves with an impression of trust and uncertainty.
“Promise? You want me to promise something?”
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A note of agreement passed through him.
“Sure, you've been nothing but help so what would you like me to promise?”
Morgan received a series of emotions wrapped up in consecutive cacophonous noises as the ship attempted to convey feelings. A sense of deep belonging hit him first, it was tinged with hints of something sentimental or possibly sacred. Next was a desire to protect, followed by a desire to help and a sense that the two conflicted. Morgan mulled the sensations over in the silence that followed, there was something familiar about the sensations. That was when it hit him. The captain's cabin. The only time he'd sensed that protectiveness was when he approached it. With the dawning realisation he spoke.
“You want to help me, but in order to do that you need to let me into the captain's cabin, that's where the clothes are, aren't they?”
She grumbled her confirmation.
“And you need me to promise not to take anything more than what is offered?”
Another chime of approval came from her. Well that was easy enough, Morgan thought, he was growing to like this ship anyway and had no desire to betray her trust.
“Alright well if that's all you need I'm happy to give it. I promise you I won't take any more from you than is offered.”
There was a short pause and the impression of approval never came. I thought over his words, trying to find an unintended loophole that she might have picked up on, but he thought the promise was pretty air tight.
“It's okay if you don't want to, you've done so much for me already. If my assurance isn't enough for you I understand, we're still basically strangers”.
Finally, she replied-a frustrated creak echoing around him. Thinking for a moment Morgan pressed.
“Is there anything I could do to persuade you then?”
He heard a clicking, like the tapping of a foot as the ship thought. After a moment he got a number of impressions. Unlike his previous method of creaky communication, these had pressed directly into his mind and not the slightest peep or squeak was needed.
“Warn this hurt. Trust me”
He got the message loud and clear as his headache, which had subsided somewhat with a drink of water, suddenly flared up again. Wincing at the pain Morgan nodded his head mumbling his consent. He didn't know if it was the strange honesty he felt from the ship that made him trust it, or if he just really, really wanted some pants but had agreed and so he started to brace himself for whatever was coming. There was a short calm before the storm and then it hit him. He knew the power the moment it hit him, it was the same thing he'd used to push himself up onto the rock and pull himself onto the ship's deck.
Will. He still didn't know exactly what it was but that was the best word he could find to describe it. To call his Will and the Will of the ship the same however would be laughable. If his was a pool, then hers was a deep lake. It was a lake that had suffered a long drought, slowly depleting year after year with no reprieve. But it was more than merely a greater reserve as her Will had a strength and certainty to it, an integrity that his Will simply lacked. It felt like a giant had gently rested their hand on his shoulder, it wasn't aggressive but there was a clear display of strength that told him that if she wanted to,she could squash him like a bug.
Gradually and tenderly, he felt her Will withdraw and he knew what he had to do. It was to some degree, the same thing she was doing every time she ‘spoke’. Using what he remembered from when she had pressed her Will against him, he gained a better idea of where that power was inside him. He honed in on it, pulling it forth and focusing on his words and intent.
“I promise you, I will take nothing more from you than what you offer.”
As the words left his mouth he felt another chunk of his Will exhaust itself as a weight settled on his chest. Morgan still didn't entirely understand what he'd done, but he knew that breaking his oath would come with some very painful consequences. After that she went back to her usual method of communication, with a thankful, conciliatory groan. It wasn't as clear as when she spoke more directly, but at least he didn't feel like someone had started playing pinball with his head. Rising out from the bowels of the ship, Morgan stopped at the top of the hatch, smiling as he swiped some of the grime away to reveal a lightly scuffed, but otherwise untarnished deck. Standing up, Morgan huffed a laugh, almost facepalming as he realised he'd forgotten some important.
“I just realised I never did any properly introduced myself, or asked your name.”
Morgan took a couple of steps forward and steadily made his way up the stairs, intricate carvings on the wooden handrails still slightly visible beneath the salty debris.
“My name is Morgan Harris, I'm from Australia and it is my pleasure to meet you.”
Hopping his way over the last couple of steps, cleaning off some of the wooden railing as he went, the muck sliding cleanly off with ease. Approaching the door between him and some long awaiting clothes and tried to give the ship his warmest smile.
“May I ask your name?”
There was a long pause where Morgan could have sworn the ship was holding back just to keep him in suspense. Then he heard the door crack open in front of him, revealing the warm light of the cabin. His eyes went wide as he took it all in. Aside from a small area at the back that was splintered and warped, the whole cabin was clean and intact. A lush and plump bed with soft grey-blue sheets that he longed to collapse into laid there; the rest of the cabin had fine, polished wooden and marble furniture artfully arranged around it.
“Gods it even has a bathroom!” Morgan couldn't help but gasp as his jaw dropped.
“And is that indoor plumbing?!”
Morgan was trying to figure out the logistics of that anachronistic bit of design as it tickled the little archetect in him from his Uni days. Morgan quickly found himself losing that line of thought as his jaw dropped for the second time. Intricate carvings inlaid with glittering golden thread swirled around the cabins domed ceiling. Each carving came together to depict countless journeys and all manner of outlandish adventures. Reliefs of deadly battles with sea monsters of all shapes and sizes, encounters with sirens, harpies dragons, man eating giants and a beautiful witch surrounded by pigs. Some of them were stories he recognised but many were ones he'd never heard of. But for every triumph he saw, there were countless tragedies too. Time after time the Ship had been destroyed. Time and time again she had been rebuilt, stronger then before. As Morgan's eyes traced the golden threads to their centre, he felt a rumble from the ship, pride already beaming from he as the sounds settled into words. He had a pretty good idea of what that would be, as his eyes settled on the golden rams head at the centre of the domed ceiling, golden fleece stretching out to fill in the surrounding legends. He felt the name on his lips as creaking, groaning, clickering, clackering noise finally built to a peak.
“ARGO”