Puzzle Pieces

Stinging sweat dripped mercilessly into Brunos eyes as he grunted and strained at the effort taken to screw the pipes together. His tiny cabin was normally stifling but the heat was nearly overwhelming with the extra bodies attempting to lounge in it . Each one of them expecting, praying for him to pull off a miracle.

“Damn it Feildon!” as he threw a piece to the floor, “ are you sure you picked up all the bits at Amos?’”

The short dagger stopped whittling as Feildon flicked his eyes up at the hunched figure; his sharp look answer enough. Feildons expensive chambray shirt hung open to the waist though the oppressive heat that forced sweat marks onto the other mens shirts his, as always, appeared freshly laundered.

Bruno growled and turned back to the piping, his thoughts screaming in his head. “Blast that smarmy bastard. Always ready to order the men around never working himself – whos in charge here anyway?.”

Brunos eyes swept the room. The partially constructed still crowded what little space he had. Tucked under his hammock with his gangly legs swinging back and forth, lay Calvin.

“Don’t you have something better to do lad?”

The roar startling even Feildons nonchalance.

Calvin’s dark eyes look up at the men in genuine surprise. His hand beginning to bleed having been caught by the cruel claws of the Black Cat in the middle of their boxing match.

“Leave the boy be and concentrate. Turn that pipe the other way and fit it.” Amos gestured at Bruno then pointed toward the box. The Black Cat suddenly spat and arched her back as Brunos beefy hand stretched out to reach for another piece.

“Someone tell this black wench that the box does not belong to her – or she’ll be handed over to Calisto for fishing bait.”

Calvin scooped the cat into his arms and brushed his face in her warm fur. "I’ll take her outside," glad for an excuse to escape Brunos wrath and the stench of unwashed bodies. The door was quickly closed behind him and Calvins lungs filled with fresh- if not still sea air. Everyone on the ship were extra tetchy and the cat seemed to be the only creature genuinely happy to see him. Even Signora Ruby kept to her cabin and had begun to ear skirts again. Calvin wrinkled his nose. He’d liked her better in her leggings. A hot blush rose unwillingly to his face and he buried it again into the cats fur.

Out on deck, the crew on duty aimlessly tightened ropes and moped the deck. The boat creaked her concern at the inactivity and lack of mobility. When the winds dropped sending La Gongozzler into the doldrums, the ship suddenly felt smaller.

The lack of rum and Pablos insistence that the barrels of port would be just the same sent the men aboard into a spiraling depressive state.

Calvin poked his tongue out at the thought of either beverage; though he had to admit the crew were better to be round when there were ample supplies of rum aboard.

He found a spot amongst the ropes and curled up with the cat stroking its fur and murmuring to it until the gentle rocking of the boat and the warm still air sent him to sleep.

The muddle of pipes and glass chambers still sat higgle piggle about Brunos cabin an hour later.

Calisto fiddled with a length of fuse absentmindly, a bead of sweat meandered down his back catching the thick hair lazily on its way past. Bruno remained crouching over the pipes unwilling to admit that rum might not be able to be made. Calisto longed to seize the offending piece of pipe from the huge hand and place it where it aught to go; but with the state of Brunos, temper even he had second thoughts.

Calisto closed his eyes and saw the pieces fitting into one another in turn. The way Bruno had it set up, the steam would never travel at the right speed or volume. Its all about angles, the most efficient propulsion, harnessing the power. Everything was.

He grinned and looked down at the fuse ad rubbed the wick for luck again. The captain had agreed to let him go fishing his way later on in the day. Perhaps after that he might offer to help Bruno set the still up properly.