Great Spirits

∆ One ∆

"Avast Ye! Drop the anchor and lower the sails! The docks are nearing," Wren shouted at his shabbily dressed crew.

The winds were breaking and Wren knew if they did not make it to the docks in time, they would have to be pulled in by the horn of his ship. The face he had been so keen on avoiding would appear if that were to happen, and he loved his new treasure horde of goodies too much to ever think to part with it. A debt needed to be paid, but he could care less.

"Hurry with the sails!" Wren yelled at Akash standing beside him.

The sunlight reflected off the top of Akash's head, causing Wren to shield his eyes and turn away with a laugh threatening to bubble out. Akash had sun-kissed skin, brown in color, which made his baldness more apparent.

"Must you put so much oil on that greasy, bald head of yours? I'll go blind before I die at sea," Wren said laughing.

Akash ignored Wren and pushed him out of his way as he grabbed a rope. Unfortunately, he missed the others, and they plunged into the ocean. He grunted with each forceful pull to the soaked ropes. Soon they were back on deck sopping the shiny, redwood floors with water. The decks would need to be mopped later. Wren made a mental note to himself as more waves splashed onto it.

"Lower the sails! We are as close as we can get! Prepare the rowboats!" Wren said.

"Aye, Cap'n," the crew sounded off as if they were on a musical cue with the seabirds joining in with squawks and squalls of their own. Along with the birds, came the voices of the myriad of people lined up at the nearing port. It was a sweet cacophony. Just as he remembered it to be.

Wren was the first to board one of the many rowboats followed by Akash and some others. He left his second mate on the ship to keep things orderly there while he and Akash were away. Mutiny could happen at a drop of a hat, but pirates were known to stay where the coins flowed freely. It was never a bad thing to be too cautious.

"Start rowing. The docks aren't gonna come to us!" Wren said to the crew of men.

As the dock came in unloading distance, the stench of fish, both old and fresh, permeated the air. It made Wren squint his eyes and caused his nose to scrunch, but he took a big whiff of it anyway and sighed. His ship did not smell any better. He could hardly tell if he was smelling himself or the air. He sniffed again, smelling something akin to feces and dirty water this time. It was not until his nose hit a bony shoulder had Wren opened his eyes, unsmiling at the man nicknamed Piss Pot by the others. The man showed him a row of crooked, yellow teeth with a stench of its own escaping through the gaps.

"Great Gods in the sky, you smell like shit and piss, Arnel," Wren said, covering his nose.

Arnel laughed and drew his head up to the sky. He drummed his dirty boots on the small rowboat and slapped his knees.

"Bathe will you? For once? If you do not, I will not let you on the ship again."

Wren turned his head back towards the nearing city. Along the rim of the boardwalk, he gazed into the stalls and wares of the traveling merchants. Lacquered beads hung on strings at the sides and fronts. Some were shaped into stars; others circles and cubes. When Wren's eyes landed on a triangular shaped one, his eyes shifted, disinterested. In another stall, tapestries strung across and alongside the stand. There were assortments of blues and oranges and pinks and yellows. The seller shouted for thirty-four relis before haggling down the price to twenty-six with a prospective buyer. Their voices only grew louder as they neared the port.

"Tell the crew to begin unloading the merchandise and be quick about it," Wren said to Akash. There were more men coming from other rowboats carrying goods to the other port.