So badly that he spent most of his time on deck letting the high winds blow his funk away. That meant he was mostly at the stern since the gale came from the south. He’d learned quickly that spitting wasn’t the only thing you didn’t do into the wind. The fresh air made it a little easier to live with himself. Even so, he avoided company.
Sometimes between bouts of retching he was tormented by memories of his original plans for this voyage. He’d imagined himself playing dice with the crew and cleaning them out easily. He’d done it often enough in Krondor, though most of the sailors were drunk at the time.
Instead, the crew were amusing themselves by sidling up to him and saying things like, ‘Arrgh, sick are ye? Whatcha need laddie-boy is some nice ham floatin’ in a bowl of warm cream! Or maybe you’d like some cold fish chowder?’ Then laughing as he swore feebly, not realizing that he’d be cutting them down right then and there, if only he weren’t so weak and if only moving didn’t make him feel worse.
Or maybe they remember me from the dice and the taverns, and this is some sort of sick, twisted revenge.
Flora came staggering up bearing a mug of broth for him and hunched down beside him where he hid from the wet wind behind a crate secured to the deck.
‘Flora,’ he said, gasping and trying to drink the salty broth. It seemed to hurt less if you had something to give the sea. ‘Do you think they recognize me? Could I have picked someone’s pocket, or won too much at dice, d’ye think?’ Then he shook his head. ‘But there’s no profit in it, so why bother?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, my friend, if I thought someone who’d robbed or cheated me was nearby and the only revenge I was going to get was to make him throw up then I would, and gladly. And I’d consider that profit aplenty.’ Flora smiled at his expression of abject horror. ‘But I don’t think they do recognize you, Jimmy. I hardly knew you myself when I first saw you waiting on the dock, you looked so respectable!’
She huddled deeper into her thick shawl and huddled closer to him, shivering with cold. He welcomed her warmth, and the fact that she blocked the wind on that side.
‘Actually, it seems to be something they do whenever someone gets seasick; sailor or passenger,’ Flora continued. ‘I think it’s mean and I’ve asked them not to do it any more. But I honestly don’t think they can resist.’
He tried to dump the rest of the broth overboard—his shrunken stomach was starting to protest—but she pushed it right back at him.
So the crew didn’t want revenge on him, they just wanted to torture him for the joy of it. That was nice.
It’s a very good thing I can’t put curses on people or by now the whole crew would be writhing in agony. Or dying horribly. And in the throes of violent seasickness a man can think up some very horrible things indeed.
He knew that if it weren’t for Flora’s influence the crew would be even worse. How she kept them off him he didn’t know.
Perhaps he should.
‘You’re not giving them . . .’ he hesitated.
‘Giving them bribes to leave you alone?’ Flora shook her head, smiling. ‘If I were then I’d not be getting much in return for my efforts, now would I? But no, I’m not doing that any more. I’m going to be an honest girl if it kills me. At least until I find out if I do have a family.’
She watched him look miserably into the cup of cooling broth and gave his shoulder a pat. ‘Just drink it, Jimmy. You’ve got to get something down you or you really will be sick.’
He gave her a piteous look, but all she did was nod encouragingly. He squeezed his eyes shut and drank the last, lukewarm half. He knew it would come up again, but at least now it was comfortably warm. Flora would have waited until he drank it even if the stuff grew a skim of ice.
Then he thought about what she’d said. ‘I am sick,’ he pointed out.
‘You’re not dying. But if you don’t keep drinking water or broth, though, you actually might.’
Well, that was a pleasant thought.
Jimmy began to feel the broth dancing in his aching stomach and knew it wouldn’t be long before the stuff made a break for it. He was too ashamed of his condition to encourage her presence at such times.
‘Cook says if you can keep that down, and spend a while just looking at the horizon, so your senses can adjust, you just might get over this sickness. Some people do.’ Then with a piteous look she added, ‘And some people don’t.’
‘Maybe you should go below,’ he suggested.
She looked at him askance, then nodded. ‘It is getting cold out here.’ Flora tucked a tendril of hair back under her enveloping shawl. ‘I’ll be back later with something else.’
‘Oh, gods!’ Jimmy groaned and rushed to the rail.
Flora hurried away; even then he managed to feel a mute animal gratitude.