The story of nameless warrior that roaming Tanah Semenanjung, helping people, mostly those who oppressed by tyranny. He never shared his name, thus people start calling him Nirnama, meaning nameless.
The calming cascade of waves were a soothing balm to the ears. Strong winds and saltwater splashes would merrily jump out at times, complementing the acute salty scent poking one's lungs. The clear open skies, decorated plenty by soft, whirling clouds as far into the horizon as the eyes could see, portended good weather for some time to come.
This was the first time Nadīm had seen the ocean unfurled this wide before his eyes. Seeing all this while onboard such a lavish, enormous ship certainly made the experience more sublime for him.
Grand Patron Tanggang's vessel was christened the Mendam Berahi. Nadīm estimated its size to be around 328 feet in length and 36 feet in width. For the entire journey, the boy made it a point to thoroughly explore every nook and cranny of the ship.
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Seven floors constituted the ship in all, with two of them buoying it from beneath the water. Three central masts were erected on the upper deck, with the majestic sails mounted on them gleaming under the august rays of the sun, unwound in glorious purpose that propelled the ship forward.
The third floor was where all hundred oarsmen were located, fifty on each side. Two brawny men, with muscles strong as unyielding steel, commandeered each oar.
The fifth to the seventh floors of the vessel were gun decks, armed with an array of cannons. The upper deck, where Nadīm now stood, held ten carronades: three along the port and the starboard, followed by two at both the bow and stern.
The vessel's most distinct feature was its bowsprit, made out of stainless steel, tapered and sharpened like a harpoon—a feature indicating Grand Patron Tanggang's high regard for his own safety. The ship was akin to a mobile fortress traversing the open seas. Perhaps any pirate or enemy, upon sighting the ship's utter majesty, would give their raid a second thought, lest they courted death if they insisted.
Nadīm was treated like a king the entire time he was aboard the ship. Roomy cabin quarters, a lush mattress, delicious cuisines—Nadīm hadn't ever dreamt of tasting such luxuries in his young life. Joy had overcome the boy as he stood by the ship's partition, soaking in the ambience. He raised a hand to his face to block the splashes of seawater from hitting his face, despite the rush of the wind slapping his face.
"Nirnama, why don't you seem thrilled to be here?" Nadīm tried shouting over the loud rush of the wind.
Nirnama calmly sat cross-legged before Nadīm, his eyes tracing the lines on a worn-out muṣḥaf. The man was intently reading the sacred writ, his lips muttering along in his recitation. He ignored Nadīm's question as if it were the passing wind.
For three nights, they have been honored guests aboard Tanggang's ship; two days before that, they were the Grand Patron's guests at Batu Sawar Harbor. Meaning, Nadīm had now lived the life of royalty for a total of five days. He was in such good spirits, his heart elated and stomach satiated. Never had he imagined enjoying such bounties.
