Squab helped Ojo lift anchor (Balls)
From Create Your Own Story
Squab walked to the aft of the boat, getting an angry look from Jib. Ojo was wiry and thin, and gave him a yellow smile when he approached. One of his eyes was glass, and a few teeth were gold.
"Ahoy, m'young lad. You's the First Mate's boy, methinks." His voice was heavily affected by the dialect of longtime seamen. Squab gave a nod. "Aye, o'course y'are. Come, come, help me feeble arms hoist anchor." Old, surely, stained to the bone with salt. He had at least 45 years, and was maybe seven stone. Squab took the chain he was offered and pulled with Ojo until great lengths of chain were coiled at his feet and the anchor rested on the boat's edge. While they hauled, Ojo spoke happily of the past. "Why, lad, I've been at sea since dear old Henry VIII came to throne. I was just a lad, hard older'n yerself. I sailed from Ireland ta the Chinas, and heard queer Eastern folk talk of Emp'rer Kashiwabara and the era of Daiei. Aye, those Eastern folk had spices that burned in yer mouth and rockets that made colors in the sky." Squab listened raptly. In years at the dock he hadn't heard of such places. "My, they're a kind folk. I left ta sail in the South, and made my penny trading silks, but once I grew my years I headed back East." Ojo laughed and smiled at the memory. "Aye, but then I was grew a bit older, and I saw the Eastern girls. They's beauties, they is. Had them until Ojos were growin' all over China. Why, I took an Eastern girl to sea, and she was full of stories. The crew liked her mighty much, they did." He talked until they had finished.
"Fine work, m'lad, and y'can hold to that. Ye'll grow up a strong man. Remind an old sailor of your name?"
"Squab." He said, and extended his hand. Something he'd seen well dressed doctors and lawmen do together. Ojo grinned and shook it.
"Aye, Squab, I'll keep yer name up in me old noggin. Say, has the First Mate told ye where we're off ta?" Squab said he hadn't. "Why, French islands! We'll take a shipment o' garb, and come back loaded with gold. A profitable venture, I'll reckon." Ojo leaned in and pulled something from his vest. "Here, lad, have this. Ye'll keep it safe for old Ojo, won't you?"
Squab took the coin. It was neither a penny, shilling, nor pound. It was golden-bronze, and engraved with foreign looking symbols. Squab promised to keep it safe. Ojo patted his head.
"All hands to set sail!" Called the captain, a sturdy man in wind-beaten leathers. "Hurry at it, we've investors to please!"
