At voyages end.

Sitting on a large canvas bag in the waist of the merchant ship Silver Tides, A weather-worn and bearded sailor leans back against the capstan. Closing his eyes, he turns his face to the early morning sun and draws in a deep breath through his nose. The wind, coming from seaward, almost hides the smell of land. With the tide going out, the ship is no longer driven against the bundles of hemp rope used as bumpers between it and dockside so the soothing sound of creaking rope and timber is no longer disturbed by the unnatural thump-and-lurch of the hull hitting the quay. The sound of hammers on wood and screeching pulleys is a familiar comfort and even the voices of the Carters and Longshoreman were salty enough to be mistaken for sailors at work if you didn't listen too closely.

It was the animal noises that ruined the fragile illusion. Chickens and goats are common enough aboard ships and are necessary for a proper galley. Having previously served aboard ships that kept dairy cows, he could even ignore the occasional 'Moo'. However, the braying of a mule or the whinny of a horse is too far outside a blue water ship's normal range of sounds to ignore. But the worst offenders of the auditory assault by far were the birds. The constant caws, chirps, twitters, and whistles were a steady reminder to the unconscious mind of a deep water sailor that he is either on land or too damn close to it.

The smile fades from the sailor as he exhales. 'Land' he thinks. Land always complicates things. Land is unpredictable. Land is full of random strangers, with many of them ready to do you harm for the slightest of reasons and sometimes for no reason at all. Land is a place of chaos, where things often happen for no discernable reason and people run about not knowing their place, because for many there is no place for them. This is not so on a ship, or at least the good ones. With its ratings, watches, divisions, and bells, a man knows his place and where he fits in on the larger scheme of things.

'I could stay and let things just be.' He thinks until reality kicks in. 'No, you can't and you damn well know why. Besides, it's not just the base reason anymore. You've set it up so that after tonight, you could never again be a part of this ship.' He tells himself.

'I could call it off, I don't have to do it, I could lie and just turn it into a party where no one gets hurt and everyone has a good time.' His warm and happy fantasy is pierced and withered by his own cold logic and the truth that he cannot ignore. 'Sure, lie. That's always worked out for you. Turn it all into something warm and tender. That way, those happy little lies can burn away your soul when the truth you KNOW catches up to all of you. Then everyone can be devoured as a surprised and ignorant little family, except you. Ignorance may be bliss, but lying to yourself is like swimming with chains. Besides, this isn't the best of ships to be on.' He frowns, knowing the truth of this reflection. 'I have a point there.' He reflects. 'Besides, if I stay here much longer I might go crazy and start talking to myself.' This thought being funny enough for a personal chuckle.

As if to drive home the thought of this being the wrong ship, his dark reverie is broken by a kick to his outstretched feet, causing him to slip sideways off his bag.

Without thought he goes with the motion, curling his upper body and turning the fall into a roll, which ends with him standing ready and facing his attacker from a distance of several feet.

His assailant, the ship's Boatswain, stands there looking irritated and a bit befuddled that his ambush resulted in no harm. The disappointment fades and his irritation turns to outrage as he looks at his intended prey standing ready and not floundering in fear on the deck as he intended.

"Put your damn hands down you nimble little freak." Shouts the man, known only to the sailors by rank and position; The Bosun. "The Captain will see you now. Paid off and gone you'll be, and none too soon for my own liking. You're a weird little bugger and no mistake. Never seen anyone like you before and hope to keep that run of luck once you're gone. And what kind of grown man has, or would keep, the name of Mouse anyway? Stupidest name I ever heard. I ought to find a Giant named Rat-Catcher and put him on to you. You fucking rodent."

"Eloquent and charming as always my dearest Bosun." says the sailor known as Mouse. "I apologize for my feet being in your path. Had I known about your particular blindness to those that actually do their duty and wash with regularity, I would have kept an ear out for the sound of your mouth breathing and simian gait, or paid more attention to my olfactory sense and used it for detecting the fug that not only surrounds you, but can actually defeat the wind in announcing your odiferous presence." Mouse smiles as the shocked expression on the Bosun's face turns to dim understanding and anger. Then lowering his arms, Mouse continues. "As for your rat catcher, he'd have to look no farther than that face weasel you call a beard. I'd suggest a few braids and beads like mine, but on you, it'd be like pearls in a pig's ass." Watching the rage build in the large Bosun was only half as satisfying as seeing the ship's First Lieutenant, watching from above the rail on the poop deck, cover his mouth and turn away in an attempt not to laugh out loud.

Walking over and retrieving his bag, Mouse looks into the eyes of the Bosun. "If not for the Captain's summons, I'd gladly explain the larger words to you in detail. I'd offer a later class, but alas, your wish to never see me again makes that impossible. Shame really, I hoped to see you at my little get together later tonight. Perhaps the good Lieutenant would be kind enough to enlighten you in your vocabulary deficiencies." Mouse then walks toward the door leading to the Captain's quarters as the Bosun turns to find out who just laughed at him, only to see the Lieutenant walking away with his shoulders shaking.

Spinning back and seeing Mouse already half way to the door, the Bosun yells out. "Oh, I'll be there alright you fucking little shit stain, and if not for the law and the Captain's summons, you'd be bleeding at my feet."

Mouse stops inside the open door and turns. "So you...