Pedro Álvares Cabral — alt story (Part Three)
The man has had a really hard time thinking out about everything that happened in his whole existence until that encounter. Pedro had spent the last two weeks trying to pick up the bits and pieces of his own mind that were shattered around the ship. The errant winds had blown his sanity away, having him abandoned the command for a while so as the simplest of tasks ~ such as maintaining his personal hygiene up to date. Meanwhile, the crew was raging star…vation wars.
Miguel had taken over the command of the ship since the Captain was not okay, but knowing it was all about astrology he has raised his shields and swords against the six rebel ships that tried to convince the fleet to move direction. The battle was quite long since the territory was wide enough ~no walls nor corners ~ and due to their provisions ran out quicker when spending energy. The fishing ship had been sunk and so their aliment right on the second day of that war. It was a dull move from one of the sides ~ thinking that famine would make the other side weaker, ending the conflict earlier. It was on a sunny lucky day that one of then-commanded Miguel’s caravel had spotted a whale nearby and then fished it with an improvised harpoon. Pedro was not able to listen to a sound coming out of his room, as he was just in state of trance all of a sudden. Everybody felt he wouldn’t make it very far. Occasionally, Miguel would put a plate of meat in front of the door so Cabral could pick that up when nobody was on sight.
~ What about Margarida? She is rather decent and enjoys music ~ then a long moment of silence would follow it, to be interrupted with a random grumble.
From the other side of the door a couple of seamen would be listening discreetly, with a mix of fear and resignation. “He’s definitely gone, what do we do now?”
At one day they couldn’t avoid been caught by Miguel’s sight, who gave them a brutal earful right beside the door.
~ BUNCH OF POULTRY BOTH OF YOU ARE! YOU JUST GOT SO USED TO BE COMMANDED YOU CAN’T EVEN THINK BY YOURSELF ANYMORE!
Both of them got a huge fright as if it was Pedro himself shouting. Then somebody inside that room shouted back:
~ YOU BETTER LEAVE ME ON MY OWN YOU FUCKS!
Miguel looked amused, knowing he was about to come back from his travel.
(at this point the author has just got caught in self doubt, whether he would continue the story or stop it right here to write a longer essay ~book ~on the story)
any suggestions that would help me out clearing my mind, you’re welcome to email me at andreeeepicanco@gmail.com.
thanks.
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