WARRIORS by Warriors (retail) (epub)

Author:Warriors (retail) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2013-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

From the window alongside his post, wedged between the chart table and the bulkhead, he looked straight out at the barnacle-encrusted pilings. Only by pressing close against the window could he see down to the vessel’s rail and part of a deck where the men prepared for sea.

Despite the warning that the vessel would leave soon, no one seemed in a hurry. He watched whatever activity occurred in the wheelhouse, although this was sporadic at best, since even the captain appeared to be occupied elsewhere. Well. He watched the vessel slowly rise against the pilings. Pilings in Japan were no different than these, but such tides! Like everything else in America, tides were bigger. He began to grow hungry. Best forget this, and remain obediently where he’d been told to stay.

More than two hours passed. Finally, “Oh shit, you had breakfast?” the captain demanded, facing him for the first time since he’d come aboard. “Forgot about you. Follow me.” He was led down enclosed stairs to a cramped room with a single, long table where the air smelled unpleasantly of cooking grease and soap. One crewman sat drinking from a mug. The captain gestured for Kiyoshi to sit on the bench at the other end of the table and snapped, “See this man here gets something to eat. He’s going to ride with us.” And the captain was gone.

The crewman—it was the one who had made the hostile remark when he’d come aboard—regarded Kiyoshi for a time. At length he went into a small galley, returned with two pieces of soft white bread and an open jar of brown stuff labeled “peanut butter,” and slapped them down. “Speak any English?” He took a dinner knife from a drawer and pushed it over. “Guess you people know how to use one of these—though it ain’t as sharp as you’re used to. Coffee’s over in that pot. Cream in that can beside it. If that’s what you people drink.”

Kiyoshi fought to control his rising anger. “Thank you.” But he left the food untouched, despite the feeling of hunger gnawing at his stomach. My ancestors, it roiled in his mind, were samurai, while yours were at best common laborers. A few years ago, with an arrogant American like you as my prisoner . . .

“Thank you,” he repeated in order to keep his perspective on the present. “I am not hungry.”

“Yeah. Right.” The two men eyed each other, neither willing to look away.

“Well, hey, there’s my man!” exclaimed a gruff voice at the doorway. It was the black-bearded crewman who had told this man to “leave it alone.” Kiyoshi leapt to his feet, relieved, bumping his shins against the bench.

“Sit, man.” The newcomer turned to his crewmate. “Seen to feeding our guy?”

“If you want to call it that, Vic. But I guess he’s particular about not getting fish heads and rice.”

“Ease off, Spike.” Vic poured two mugs of coffee, came over, and pushed one toward Kiyoshi. “Riding with us, eh?”

“Hai! Yes. Coming on this vessel for .

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