Nonfiction/Historical Fiction Contest Entries

SmackDown OF 15

We had not been sailing for yet a fortnight before we spotted land.

It heartened all the men, to see their efforts paying off so quickly. Back home in Spain, we had been vaguely aware of the place dubbed Africa, but aside from its name, we had heard only stories, some indiscernible from fact.

That night, as we sailed steadily toward the whisp of Africa on the horizon, the crew members gathered around a flickering lamp to tell those tales.

"I heard there are men black as night," one man whispered. "They look as though they are burned but they are not in pain."

"I heard there are all sorts of strange animals, big enough to tear you limb from limb without more than a shake of their head," another contributed.

I had heard these stories, and dozens more aside. While fear flickered in other's eyes to match the lamplight, the tales only served to strengthen my resolve. I had been seeking adventure when I ran away from my father at sixteen, and sailing under famed Christopher Columbus, I was sure to find it.

I was one of the youngest of the crew, working in the kitchens and doing odd jobs where odd jobs needed doing. Oftentimes, I felt like I was on the outskirts of the crew, watching the older, more experienced men easily perform tasks that I struggled with. In times like these, however, where the darkness of the ocean threatened to swallow us whole and we were all stripped down to the men we truly were, I felt less alone.

"I heard that sometimes, the sun can bake you alive," yet another sailer piped up. "Nobody can go outside for fear of being burned to death."

"My uncle told me about an expedition of men who went to Africa in search of fortune," another man said casually. His deceptively relaxed tone hinted at a story better than all the others, and the sailors leaned forward, eager to hear it.

"Not a single man came back," the man murmured. "The people and the animals and the sun picked them off, one by one." The last three words he delivered with coarse clarity before leaning back, worrying his pipe between his teeth and smiling slightly.

"Every one of them died?" a sailor who had been quietly listening asked.

The man nodded in confirmation.

"Then who survived to tell their story?" the man pointed out.

We erupted into laughter, which only crescendoed as the first man stopped smoking with a puzzled expression on his face.

Footsteps echoed across the deck behind us and we snapped to attention, as fast as naughty schoolboys.

Columbus towered over us, the lamplight cutting severe edges into the lines of his face.

We all surveyed each other in silence for a moment before Columbus smiled. "Men, I would suggest that you get some rest. We anchor tomorrow."

A chorus of "yessir" filled the air and we all stood, one of us grabbing the lamp to prevent a fire hazard.

We all returned below deck to get some rest. I was sharing my cabin with several other men, although the space had at first seemed barely large enough for two. We had since grown accustomed to the arrangement and I had perfected the art of curling into myself so tightly that I didn't take up much room at all.

We slunk into our bunks and underneath our thin blankets. There was no porthole in the cabin, but once everyone stopped rustling into place, I could just hear the waves, sloshing methodically against our ship.

I fell asleep with the rhythmic ocean as a backdrop to my dreams.

*

Someone shook me awake early the next morning and, still half asleep, I reported to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.