Jack collected his final pay, slung his ditty bag over his shoulder, and made his way down the gang plank. Three months at sea and now he was a free man. Let the revels begin. He jumped into a cab and told the driver to take him where the action was. Grinning into the rear view mirror the driver said "you got it, my man."
He dropped Jack on a street not far from the piers, dense with bars and strip joints. Surveying the possibilities, Jack decided a little strip action might be fun and headed into Showgirls. An hour of bump and grind, a few beers and several ten dollar bills later Jack was feeling no pain and ready to move on. Back on the street he looked around. He wanted someplace unusual. Someplace the locals would hang out if they were cool.
He headed down the street and came upon a place that looked promising. He strolled up to the window and peered inside. Yep, this was the place, he decided. He pushed through the beaded curtain into a loche, bohemian space that was beckoning and edgy. Breaking into a grin he went to bar and ordered a pint.
He found a small table in the back and parked himself with his back to the wall, just wanting to breath it all in and see what developed. There were a few single women that looked promising.
Soon he noticed an old salt smoking a yellowed clay pipe he'd seen other old timers smoke on a few ships. He was dressed in dungarees and a peacoat, looking every inch the mariner of old. The sailor cast a squinty eye at him for a bit and then rolled over to his table and sat down without leave.
"Yar, matey," he breathed, as he took the pipe out of the corner of his mouth and stowed it away. "On leave are ya, or have you finished a tour?"
Jack grinned at the old man. "I'm footloose, ya tar. Three months under steam and now i'm enjoying the night." He took a pull on his pint and eyed the his companion over the rim.
The old man regarded him for a bit and stuck out his hand. "Sully's the name, mate. Welcome to Lil's."
Jack shook and wondered what the old man wanted. "So, you hang here often, do ya?"
Sully chuckled. "I get around. I like bein' near the water, as you do." He glanced at the bar. "Looks like you could use another. My shout, whattya say?"
"Sure old man, bring it on. I'll get the next one." He made his way to the head while Sully got the beers.
Sully took the pints back to the table and surreptiously tipped the contents of a small bindle into Jack's beer. He looked up as Jack returned. Raising his glass he toasted his new mate, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes, And the lass that loves a sailor!"
Jack clinked glasses and took a deep pull. This was a good night. "You're the man, Sully."
They talked a bit about life on the sea and the places they'd seen and finally Jack asked, "So what do you do for a crust, Sully?"
Sully winked. "I make things happen Jack. I have a special talent, you see."
Jack was intrigued. "Well, like what?"
Sully leaned in and locked eyes. "Anything, Jack. Anything at all. Why, right now the eyes on that painting of Lil on the wall over there are following you everywhere you look."
Jack glanced at the painting. He moved his head this way and that. Damn. It was true. The eyes followed him everywhere. "I've seen paintings like that before. It's an optical illusion."
Sully cocked his head. "Well then, how do explain the fact that the table is levitating."
Jack looked down. The table was indeed rising slowly, the beers sloshing a bit. "How...how do you do that!"
Sully chuckled. "I told you Jack, I can do things. Say, what was the name of that new ship you've signed on to?"
Jack's head swam. "Um...new ship? I..." He couldn't remember.
"You were sayin' you're shoving off with the outgoing tide in the mornin'. What was the name?"
Jack tried hard to sort things out in his mind. It wasn't like him to be forgetful. Sully signaled to the barmaid for two more pints. She put them down in front of them and Jack protested. "Um, I don't think I can..."
Sully snapped his fingers. "The Ormaru! That was it. Yar, I know that tanker. You're gonna like it there. Good crew."
Jack's head swam as Sully toasted him again and they drank. "I...the Orma..."
"Not to worry, Jack, i'll get ya there in time. I wouldn't let a mate down!"
They continued to drink and Jack fell further into a tracelike state. Soon he was hoisted to his feet and Sully guided him out into the night air. He stumbled to the curb and puked his guts out.
They piled into a cab, Jack laying there, his eyes glazed and his breathing ragged. Sully kept up a light banter, most of which Jack couldn't make any sense of. The Cab stopped on a pier and Sully helped him to a tanker docked down the way. Up the gangplank they went, Jack barely able to walk. At the gangway a crew member took control of Jack and guided down a passageway to a bunk where he blacked out.
The captain grinned at Sully. "I don't know how you do it, Sully, and frankly, I don't want to know. He looks like a strong one."
"Aye, he'll heave too once he gets his legs back under him. I told him he'd signed on." He barked out a harsh laugh and held out his hand. "Now then, a thousand, wasn't it?"
The captain snorted. "Sully, you dog, you know I don't pay more than seven hundred."
"Ya scurvy dog! Right then, i'll settle for nine hundred."
The captain reached into his pocket. "Eight hundred, and i'll see you in three months, you old salt."
Sully made his way down the pier. The night was young, and there were other ships in need of slave labor.
