Stories From the Crow's Nest (9 of 10)
That night there was a wicked storm and luckily I was below
deck. I was watching a couple of men having a fistfight. It
wasn’t over anything, just a friendly boxing match that others could bet on. They sat on a chest facing each other and each man had another man behind them with a rope. The man behind them had the rope around the fighter’s waist and pinned it down with their own hands to the side of the chest so the fighters remained seated at all times. They exchanged blows and this one man with blonde hair just about got his nose broken. There was blood all over his face and there was water seeping in through the sides of the ship. Most of the crew ignored this and kept their mind on the fight. I sat in my hammock in the far corner and watched the spectacle, yet also worried about the water. I thought of home and cried. It was the first time I had cried since being on the Tara May. I didn’t know why I cried, I didn’t feel completely homesick, but I had savagely slain men that day. I had killed people, and that haunted me more than anything. Some of the crew came and tried to laugh and joke with me, but I was tired. Being in the nest is exhausting, and I knew the time would come too soon when I’d have to climb back up to the top. Those thoughts filled my head as I sunk like the sun into my hammock.