Charlie and the Ship I (Day 4)

Charlie Dobson's world rocked gently from side to side under his back.

"Mister?"

The world was coming back to him through a fog -- first the rocking; then the sound of washing waves rising and falling from below, and a faint, rhythmical creaking from overhead; then, the feeling of a hard, even surface under him.

"Mister? Are you awake?" A girl's voice. A small one.

"Mmh," Charlie grunted. "Somewhat." He felt around with his fingers. Wooden boards.

"Aye then. What's your name, Mister?"

Charlie opened his eyes. He was greeted by the round, concerned face of a little girl, couldn't have been older than six or seven, big eyes staring back at him and long hair hanging down around her face, tickling his nose.

"Charlie. Charlie Dobson. Well, Charles. But they call me Charlie."

Satisfied with the answer, the girl withdrew, revealing what Charlie accurately judged to be an evening sky, and a ship's rigging. Wooden masts and spars, with white canvas sails, bloated in the wind. He tried to sit up, but the moment he lifted his head from the deck it started pounding, and he decided to leave it where it was for the time being. He took a few steady breaths, and the headache began to clear with the fog. With the increasing lucidity came questions. Why was he on a ship? And a wooden ship, of all things - did they even make them out of wood any more?

Memories started drifting to him. Last he remembered, he'd been in New York. No, he'd been on a ship, then he'd been in a lifeboat. No, he'd been in the cold, wet darkness of the ocean, drifting to nowhere in the middle of the night...

"Want a pillow, Mister Charlie? Or a blanket?"

"Um. A pillow would be nice. Thanks."

Little feet pattered in the direction of, judging by the sails, the back of the ship - what was it called? - the stern, and returned after a while. Charlie's head was lifted carefully by two hands, and a pillow tucked underneath. He could see the girl now, sitting on a cast-iron cannon, dangling her feet in the air. She reminded him distantly of Alice, though this one had a pink dress, with frilly edges. And she had brown hair. She was looking at him quizzically. Charlie felt like he was expected to say something, but he didn't know what it was.

After a moment, the girl said, "I had tea a moment ago and I reckon there's still some left in the galley if you fancies it, Mister Charlie."

Charlie nodded. The girl jumped down onto the deck and ran off again. She returned with a big pewter mug in her hand. She offered it to Charlie. The steam had an odd scent, like black currants and peppermint.

He tried to lift his head, then let it fall back to the pillow with a grunt. The girl put down the mug and Charlie felt her hook her arms under his and drag him to the left side (port, Charlie remembered distantly) and lay him against the bulwark, the pillow at his back. She then handed him his tea.

"Thank you. For the pillow, too."

The girl just smiled. Charlie took a sip. It was a strange flavor, berries and mint and a hint of coconut, but then again, he didn't drink much tea. He was more of a coffee person. It wasn't regular tea, that was for certain. Maybe it was green tea, he mused. His sister drank green tea. Whatever tea this was, Charlie concluded, it was actually quite pleasant. Odd, but pleasant.

"Why do you look like that, Mister Charlie?"

"Like what?"

"Like, like funny like that."

"I don't understand."

"Like, when I look at you, I don't sees the ship."

Charlie didn't know what to say to this, so he bought himself some time by peering into his tea and looking thoughtful. "Um. Maybe you don't see the ship because, well, I'm in the way? Aha. Ha. Um."

The girl cocked her head to the side.

"I don't see the ship when I look at you, either."

She looked at him. Then she looked at her hand, the ship, then at nothing in particular that Charlie could see towards the bow, the at him again. "I s'pose that's it." She watched him sip his tea. "But the others don't look like that. Just me. Oh, and Mister Roger. But he's a flag, so that's different."

"Who?"

"Mister J. Roger."

"No, who are the others?"

"Mister Tom and Miss Cindy and Mister Harry and everybody. They're the crew. You know. They used to be pirates but now they is sorry."

"Are they inside?"

"Some of them. Some of them is on the deck. You can't see them, 'cause they is invisible."

Charlie had heard of this. Lonely children made up imaginary friends to play with. He felt kind of sorry for her.

Off to the starboard side, the sun was touching the water already. Must've been getting late.

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't, 'cause you didn't asked me."

"Sorry. I'm asking now. What's your name?"

"Melissa."

"So, Melissa, how'd you get on the ship?"

"I was first on this other ship, but it got broken, and I was lost in the sea for a long time. And Mister Harry sawed me and jumped into the sea and rescued me, and Mister John hauled him back up with a rope. Just like they did with you, Mister Charlie."

That's what he would have asked next - 'How did I get on the ship?' - but Melissa had answered both questions now. Not that either the answers made sense.

"Mister Johnny says it's a miracle you isn't ended up in the locker of Mister Jones."

"Who's he?"

"I don't really know. He's not on our ship so maybe he's on a different ship. Anyway, I don't think the crew really likes him. They sounds angry when they talks about him."

Charlie watched the rigging, watched the sails catch the wind. He looked at the tiller, turning back and forth anemically. "How does this ship, you know, work?"

"Oh, I don't knows about that."

What did that mean, then? That the ship was magic and somehow steered and sailed itself?

"It's the crew that sails the ship. I can't do it meself, I just watches. Sometimes they lets me hold ropes for them, but I think they is just being nice to me."

Ah. That explained everything. It was sailed by her invisible friends.

"It's gonna be dark soon. You can see the crew when the sun goes down, 'cause they is only visible in shadow. If you wanna to know how the ship works, you can asks Mister John. He's the captain, you know. But he lets me live in the captain's cabin and sleep in the captain's bed. Isn't he nice?"

Charlie nodded, befuddled. This girl had an imagination. He looked at his mug. It was empty; he had nowhere to hide his confusion. A moment passed in silence.

"You hungry?" Melissa inquired suddenly. "There's soup in the galley. I made it meself. You want soup, Mister Charlie?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Melissa disappeared into the galley again. Soup? Made from what? Charlie doubted there were many kinds of food that kept without refrigeration, which this ship was unlikely to have. But if that was so, what did the girl eat?

She reemerged from the staircase leading to the galley, a bowl in her hands. She offered it to him. There were potatoes in it, and carrots, and fish. He understood where the fish was from well enough.

"I had to do something with the veggies before they rotted, and I asked Mister Jimmy so he teaches me to makes soup."

"How long have you been on the ship?" Charlie asked. He gave a piece of potato an experimental nibble. It tasted fresh.

"I don't know. I is had two birthdays though."

"Oh." That would mean more than two years, but the girl could have been having herself a birthday every other day for all he knew. "Where is, I mean, where are the vegetables from?"

"The Golden Merchant gives them to us for delivering things. He's nice. He's really tall. He's kinda green and he says some people call him frog, but I think that's really mean and I think he's really handsome. I never call him frog and the crew don't, either. You know, I bet you'd like to meets him."

"I'm sure I would."

Charlie looked at the sun again. You weren't supposed to look directly at the sun, but it was nearly below the horizon now and he didn't care that much anyway. It was like the zebra crossings in London, optional.

It was already much darker than when he'd come to. Couldn't have been more than half an hour ago. Could it? He'd heard darkness comes quickly when you're near the equator. It sure was coming faster than it ever did in New York. In New York, it never really came at all. Charlie turned his eyes up at the sky and watched the sky blacken and the stars come to life. You never properly saw the stars in New York.

"Mister Charlie!" Melissa sounded excited.

"Hmm?"

"You can see the crew now."

Charlie looked.

Charlie almost had a heart attack.

* * *

Continued on Day 5.

Okay, that's enough for today, but I'm intending to continue this storyline further. I'm pretty pleased with today's work, actually. It's not horridly late and I've got a decent word count and everything. Three cheers for phalmy! Huzzah.