The Lost City Of Avaria.

Chapter 4 - The Vivacia

A horn sounds, a bell rings, steam hisses from vents and we are away. The ship groans softly, like a mother leaving her bed in the middle of the night to see her unhappy child. I put on my coat and hat and step outside onto the deck as the ship rises away, and Haven gently slips away.

The gas bags strain against stiff crusty lines, airmen crack the ice around the furled sails, whilst others open up valves to flood warm water from the engines around the ship. I know that in the engine room they will have used Ruski vodka in the fuel lines to stop ceasing. The crew are the ships little slaves and coax it into life with promises of warmer climes and sweet wind ahead.

The first mate is shouting orders while the captain stands at the helm making sure his mistress is well looked after, and ready for what lies ahead. I stand there drinking it all in as the rain starts lashing down in sheets. Then the first mate bellows at me to get below to the cook and make myself useful instead of standing around like a wet lettuce. I start to ask where but his tongue is busy lashing the crew harder than the rain.

I hurry over the slippery deck trying my best not to get knocked over, or off the ship for that matter. Finding a door into the hold I head over almost tripping over a runaway chicken and the swearing one eyed deck hand running after it, I hadn't heard half the words he was using before! In the hold all is quiet and much more to my liking, apart from the rather rough fellow who barges in after me coughing all over my shirt. I try to object, but, well to put it mildly he looks like he'd kill his mother for a bent penny.

Continuing through the ship my nose picks up a new scent vaguely similar to the pie stall on my street, though a bit rougher. A man's voice in a language I have never come across before reaches my ears accompanied by a large metallic clang. I hesitate at the door unsure of myself, not knowing what was on the other side of the door frightened me. Would I be warmly embraced, faced with coldness or outright shunned?

I slowly reach to turn the handle when the door barges open knocking me off my feet.

"Hey watch it short stuff" says a young deckhand girl struggling with her coat, and shouting behind her "Ah shut up yer grumpy old goat, I've got work to do and you better have some of your poison ready in an hour or there'll be hell to pay!"

With barely a glance in my direction she saunters off with a string of foreign words chasing her up on deck.

"Excuse me" I ask peering round the door at tall slim man with a slim well groomed moustache.

"Yes yes, look I told her dinner will be served when it is served. I shall not be rushed! Pfft these people know nothing, and they treat me the great Ivan as the slop they shovel down their gullets in those filthy taverns. Pah." Then turning and seeing I am still there. "What? What do you want? Can you not see I am working?"

"Er yes. Well um, I'm Jack, and er well I was sent to help you. Work that is."

One eyebrow on his stately forehead rises and he reminds of a hunting Hawk, or at least descriptions of them, I find myself wondering how he found himself working on this rundown Sammeler ship.

"Hmm, the captain sent you eh? Well you are scrawny, and I doubt you are much good at anything ship related. So welcome to the galley my humble home in hell."

"Yes. Um sir?"

He clearly didn't hear me as he roots around in some old trunk in the back of the galley.

"Ah here we are, maybe a tad large for you lad but it shall suffice for now. Well what are you waiting for? Take that soaking coat off, and that hat, have you no manners? Not only are inside but this is a kitchen! I shall not have it sullied by some filthy urchin dripping in the door way like a wet lettuce!"