Broken Sails

The Cook

Only two days had passed since our last meeting and they were leaving for the big hunt tomorrow. Flint and his men had made camp on a beach far from town, in order to prepare for the journey and make sure the ship is fully equipped for ocean travel.

The first night of my arrival to the island, I didn't spend it at home; I knew he would be there, trying to convince her about that stupid hunt.

I did, however, visit him later the next morning. The whole crew was scattered around the beach looking busy, doing all kinds of chores. The man with the blue eyes and curly hair that I'd seen the other day sitting in his tent, was now cooking –or at least trying to- a raw pig a few meters away. He didn't notice me coming. «Got yourself a new cook I see. Where's Randal?» I said while approaching towards Flint's desk. Once again, he seemed surprised to see me.
«Randal's still coming with us» he replied awfully quickly. I grabbed the chair in front of me and turn it to its side before sitting down. As I sat there I glanced over some of the things on his desk. My eyes landed on the compass. I took it in my hands and run my fingers over its solid gold exterior, I turned it around until it pointed to the northeast. That's where they were going. Fools, all of them! They were heading straight to their deaths... I leaned back my chair a little and instinctively put my feet up on the desk. He coughed, just a single sharp sound, like a dog's distant bark. I looked at him confused; he was pointing at my boots. I let out an annoyed sigh and swiftly swung my feet back off the desk.
«So...who's that?» I pointed to the man to my left without taking my eyes off the compass.
«His name is John Silver, our new cook as you said» he said casually. Before I could even formulate a response to that, I heard the man asking Flint for instructions on how to roast the pig. I immediately looked at Flint but he avoided meeting my glance as though he was fearful I might see through him. This only meant one thing...He was lying about this new guy.
«Are you... cooking for on his behalf?» I tried to hold back a laughter at the thought of it, and then looked back at the man's confused expression as he was struggling to understand what he was supposed to do with that long dead animal in front of him. Flint remained silent thought «I thought he was the cook...» I mumbled, mostly to myself.
«He is» said as he couldn't keep the tone of annoyance out of his voice, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, instead of me. The question remains, why would he hire a nobody, and then disguise him as a cook to accompany them to the most important voyage of their lives? A short moment of silence followed between us. I just blurted out the question.
«So... if he isn't a real cook, then why take him with you?» I said raising an eyebrow. Flint started searching my face trying to see if I knew something he wouldn't want me to know. But then eventually let out a loud sigh and gave up.
«He is coming with us...» he paused «because he has the schedule with the information we need to find where the Urca de Lima is located» he looked past me, at the man behind me.
«I see... so why don't you just take it from him and kill him after?» I responded. He turned to me again, fixing his gaze in my direction. Then looked at my hands. «I need that.» he said, now pointing at the compass I was still holding. I handed it over to him and he continued. «We can't kill him.» he started rotating the compass «He burned the page we needed before he memorized it, and now holds the last piece of the schedule in his head» he sighed once more. I almost giggled hearing those words. I turned around in my chair to take a better look of that "cook" who was giving Flint a hard time.
«Smarter than he looks» I chuckled.

It's been almost a week since they went on that hopeless Urca hunt. Back at the house, we wouldn't talk about this; we both knew very well, this could have been the last time we saw Flint alive.

On a quiet, warm day like this, with the birds singing, it almost seemed impossible for anyone to imagine that few miles from here, a bloody fight was taking place. The Spanish would never give up the gold that easily. Of course Flint knew it, but how well can one be prepared for something like this?
I got up and grabbed a knife from the drawer. I reached out for the basket in the middle of the table and took one of the potatoes in my hand. I started peeling it right away, just like my mother had shown me when I was little, then sliced it and cut it into smaller pieces. I grabbed a skillet and placed it on the stove. I turned my head to see her as she came in the kitchen, face pale, her bare toes against the hardwood floor. She quietly stood there and observed my every move. I grabbed the seasoning salt and paper, carefully sprinkling it all over the fresh peeled fries. Her lost look followed me as I was moving in the room. She silently walked past me and sat by the window, with her face turned outside, towards the growing trees in the garden. I think she had gotten used to it... the waiting part. And to think this might be the last she sees of someone. I knew how she felt, what she would do and think after every time I'd walk out of that door and leave the house. I looked at her and I knew that all this waiting would make her age a year older every time. Yes, I did know that. But it wasn't enough to stop me from doing it again. And it wasn't enough for Flint either.