Waiting on the deck was tense. Very tense. Lawrence had entered the captain's quarters somewhere around two hours ago now, and Archer's nerves were beginning to crack. Talwynn had needed to be almost physically restrained from marching her way up the room and battering down the door. A dozen marines lined the deck in two ranks, Corporal Owen to their left and Sergeant Owen to the right. There was very little doubt in most people's minds what was happening here. The only people who couldn't have known what was happening were those who physically weren't there, such as the captain himself. As the time had passed, however, the voices inside the cabin had become louder and louder. Archer knew that Lawrence was angry, and had heard him raise his voice before, but never in his life had he heard the man this angry. Captain Crowle as well, for that matter, who had always made an effort to appear cool and collected, was matching the engineer's volume. The two of them seemed intent on shouting the other down, a third, weaselly voice joining on the side of Crowle every now and again. Archer and Crowle swapped a nervous glance as a fresh bout of shouting started up, loud enough to be heard on the deck, if muffled.
"That's one of the most foolish ideas you've had yet! You raise the anger of the crew this high with forced overtime for no pay thanks to the pathetic, self-aggrandising adventurism that dictates this ship's course, and now this! What the fuck are you thinking!?"
"Mind your tone, Petty Officer! You may have lived on this ship longer than I, but that does not grant you seniority over me! The course I chart is where we fly, my orders are the ones that are followed, no those of an upjumped rating who happened into his post because he was the only man left for the job!"
There was the sound of a clattering noise from inside the room, and Corporal Owen raised a hand to steady the men, though it seemed more of an impulse to keep himself from doing anything stupid.
"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK ILL OF MY FORBEARS, WRETCH! WE STOOD AND DIED ALONGSIDE YOUR FATHER, WHILST YOU WHILED AWAY YOUR DAYS WHORING AND DRINKING AT YOUR FAMILY MANOR! DO YOU THINK IT WAS THE WHIMS OF YOUR FATHER THAT KEPT THIS SHIP AFLOAT? IT WAS SWEAT! SWEAT AND BLOOD!"
The truly impressive volume Lawrence's voice had risen to was matched by the captain, the two of them sounding less like officers of the Royal Albionic Navy and more like a pair of argumentative alcoholics about to be forcibly removed from a dockside pub.
"YOU MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN, MR WALKER, BUT THIS SHIP IS MINE! I FUCKING OWN YOU, SO YOU WILL STAND DOWN AND DO AS I DAMN WELL TELL YOU TO!"
Archer couldn't see what was happening inside, but clearly the weasel faced second in command must have tried something particularly stupid, because a few seconds later there was a crashing noise from inside.
"Are you certain you wish to initiate an altercation, Mr Trevorrow? Last I checked you're only here to STROKE HIS FUCKING EGO! SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND SEAT YOURSELF BEFORE I DO SOMETHING UNTOWARDS!"
Talwynn's smile widened, becoming more like a predatory grin than a true expression of joy.
"Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall in that room right now. How the little weasel must be squirming."
Archer shuffled on his feet, mildly uncomfortable with the savage joy she'd managed to express to no-one in particular with those few words. She'd seemingly been waiting a very long time for this.
There was a few more lines of bellowed dialogue between the captain and the engineer, but they were so filled with anger and rage that they could not be reasonably discerned by his ears, especially seeing as they kept shouting over each other in the hopes of... well, he didn't know what either of them wanted to accomplish at this point, since it was clear that there was only one way this was going to end. Archer thought back to the pistol Lawrence had strapped to his belt, and prayed that he wouldn't hear a gunshot before the day was over. There'd been enough blood on Lawrence this last week.
YOU ARE READING
For Forty Weeks the Sunbird Flew: An Airman's Tale
General FictionThe Sunbird was an old vessel, and it showed. She was a patchwork of parts and materials, kept afloat seemingly by the determination of those who sailed on her and no small amount of luck. For Archer it didn't matter, for the Sunbird represented his...
