Pedro's War: A Short Story

The last thing Pedro remembers before finally falling asleep was looking up at the crow’s nest and watching it block out a specimen of stars as the ship slowly rolled from side to side. He let his eyes play the game of moving his head to swallow a star with the wooden basket atop of the mast. This helped calm his brain from the day’s anxiety and he found the much needed sleep. He awoke occasionally when a warm breeze would pass over his face and he would sleepily search in the direction from which it came and saw nothing but the wooden planks cradling the crew dropping his head again the old worn mat someone had found for him. He was grateful that one of the sailors had procured a remnant of the woven reeds. He found solace in the scent

He continued, “Long live the King of Castile by land and sea!” He tugged at his collar and this jester chef rolled out his next words, “Who says 'war', off with his head; who won't say 'amen', get nothing to drink. The table is set why don't you come?” The playful sarcasm escaped again, “Won't you eat?" All of the sailors, without exception, smiled for the first time that day and formed an unwoven line of men over to the firebox which was positioned centrally on the main deck, easily visible because of its rising smoke and 5 foot wooden sides which shielded the sand bottom upon which the fire was built. Sailors ready for their meal, could find it with their eyes closed simply by the smell of soup and the temptation of a dream of the roasting

Some of the sailors hastened to sit upon boxes, others upon coils of rope, some squatted on the deck, others knelt along the gunwales and some remained standing. Manners were not part of their maritime training and slurps and belches were heard across the deck as they devoured their