The Journey To Acre

Chapter 13

"Y'alright lad? D'yer need a hand or anythin'?"

Sully knew Guy didn't like him to fuss, but he didn't want him to trip on the stairs, especially since the sea is so choppy of late. Guy shakes his head, preferring to make his own way on deck, even if he is as slow as a grandpa. Archie hovers nearby, protectively keeping an eye on him and Guy shakes his head as he always does, wondering what exactly the cat gets out of this arrangement with a man who can barely look after himself. Finally, they reach their usual spot, and Guy slumps down upon the bench and sighs in relief.

"Now you know how it feels to be as old as I am!" Sully quips and Guy scowls as he always does at Sully's jokes.

"Still, every cloud has its silver lining, eh? I mean, it can't be bad havin' Lady Marian lookin' after yer can it!?"

Guy pretends not to hear this comment, choosing instead to look out at the waves as if he hasn't seen them before. Sully grins and is about to tease him some more but doesn't get chance because the Spaniards turn up, greeting the carpenter and his companion warmly. Sully introduces his friend to the new recruits, "Evenin' fellas! Good to see yer! This is Sir Guy of Gisborne," he says, gesturing to the knight who nods in greeting.

"Gisbo?" one of the men asks and is parroted by several of his companions, who then commence an overly long discussion in Spanish. Sully blinks confusedly and runs them through it again in slow motion, raising his voice as if they were deaf. Guy sighs. So much for a quiet evening.

"Ah, Gisbo!" one of the group says as if he gets it now and Guy merely presses his lips together in a tight line, hoping they'll soon shuffle off elsewhere.

No such luck. The men proceed to introduce themselves and Guy takes a polite interest, but is under no illusion he is going to remember any of these names especially since even the briefest of discussions gives him a headache these days. Which brings him back to the present moment and the curious stares being directed at him; he can only imagine what they must make of this banged up, patched up mess of a man, wearing a raggedy woollen hat on a bandaged head, to match his raggedy chaos of a beard and faded black eyes. He has an urge to quip something along the lines of 'you should've seen the other fella' but knows better than to even try it with this bunch, who evidently have a poor grasp of the English language.

As Sully begins to do some sort of complicated mime to further the conversation, Guy wonders if they would hold it against him if he had a lie down. He's distracted from this idea however, when one of the Spaniards places a flask in his hand. He looks up to see a young lad grinning at him.

"Salud!"

Suspicious as he is, he tentatively unscrews the cap and sniffs the liquid, which is so strong his eyes water. He's reminded of his first days on the Mary Peel and the godawful brew they'd consumed then. It brings a wry smile to his face.

You sailors are all the same...

With a shrug, he takes a swig and earns a pat on the back for his troubles.

.*.

He lets Sully help him back to his berth.

It isn't a long trek since he's moved from his old digs into the sick bay, but Marian would throw a fit if he fell over and injured himself. No sooner is he through the door however, he nearly faceplants tripping over the cat. Fortunately, he manages to keep on his feet, but not without stumbling into various items of furniture, ensuring that his entrance is anything but silent or graceful. His inebriated brain then has him shushing the noisy objects, swearing at Archie and finally, shushing himself. He winces as he hears movement from the neighbouring berth.