Gunpowder

Chapter I - Old Friends

Fog hovered over the docks. A big sloop, flying a Port Sud banner, was approaching one of the waterfront's side piers. The pier's sleepy supervisor came out reluctantly of the wooden shack, which served him as a shelter from the wind, rain and cold. It was an hour before the end of his shift. He cursed under his breath and yawned. The moist morning air, still smelling of the ending summer, but already carrying a cooler autumn note, sobered him. The last remains of his sleepiness had gone with another yawn and a stretch.

The ship passed the breakwater's head and glided alongside the pier. Two seamen jumped down from the deck solid ground and the third one threw them the mooring ropes. Men slowed the boat down with skill and tied the ropes to the marina posts. So far only a lone flat-bottomed barge used for coastal shipping had been moored there making the supervisor's job an easy one. He was determined to keep it this way even if it meant turning a blind eye to some minor transgressions of the harbour's regulations. With this thought in mind, he trudged towards the ship.

The sailors greeted him with silent nods. The port official pulled a small plate and a piece of chalk from under his robes. He looked at the side of the ship and noted down its name painted in crooked letters on the side of the vessel - the "Underwater Goat". He smiled to himself, grabbed his hips, and cried to the helmsman.

- Ahoy there, on the bridge. Who is in command of this fine vessel?

- Ahoy there, on the quay. I am the helmsman, captain and owner here. Captain Janus Janus from Port Sud. First time in Haaven.

- A first-timer, eh? So, I am obliged to collect all dues in cash and on the spot then. I can accept bills of payment only after a dozen visits. What purpose of the visit should I put down?

- Profits, ha, ha, ha ...

- And in more detail?

- Wine for sale. Ten dozen barrels of Bogony red and two dozen of the finest pink Zirro.

- OK. Fine. I am obliged to notify you that the quarantine period for the freight is twelve hours, during which the captain is required to be on the vessel or assign in his absence an officer accredited to host inspections and pay the customs duties. In case there is no customs' control during the quarantine period, a duty of one silver piece per barrel must be paid to me before unloading the goods, and I only need to charge the mooring fare. Sloops are due half a gold piece for the first week, one for the rest of the first month, and three more for staying over for the winter.

- Great, then, it seems mooring here is half free. In Port Sud, one needs to cough up almost twice as much. Wait a minute. I'll come right down and pay you the amount due.

- And another thing... - The pier supervisor turned as much to the working seamen as to the captain already walking towards the gangplank. - In Haaven pouring any impurities into the docks prohibited by law. Thus, if need arises, use the public latrines, because if I catch anyone with his ass hanging overboard, I will impose such a fine on this vessel that mooring here will soon turn out to be the dearest experience of your career.

- Now, do not scare us so... There, six silver pieces, and the seventh for you... for your trouble.

- What trouble?

- Turning a blind eye or, indeed, turning both your eyes away, when the boys are pissing from the ship's side. I give you the captain's word that nothing else will find its way overboard. - He winked to the official with a sly grin and slapped him on the shoulder. The expression on the supervisor's face showed his contempt for the dirty crew as well as the provincial and moronically named ship along with her captain, but that did not stop him from accepting the extra coin. There, just another young trader, with a mediocre vessel who thought himself to be the greatest seafarer of all times, only because he was able to tell the bow from the stern.