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I woke up quite confused. I didn't remember standing up, yet my feet were on the floor. The room shook about violently, rather I soon realized that a large, leather-faced man shook me by the shoulders violently.

"Boy! Boy!" the man yelled. "Are you Drake?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but involuntarily my stomach lurched and out came some more of the vile drink I had consumed the night before. To avoid getting puked upon, the man threw me backwards and jumped to the side. My stomach seemed to have little strength left and the spew landed on my shirt front. I tried wiping my shirt with my hand --

"Again, boy. Are you Drake?"

This time I kept my lips tightly pursed and nodded.

"Dammit boy. The ship leaves in half an hour, and the cap'n has already knocked me as if I kept you from arriving." He grabbed me by the jacket, carefully avoiding the wet spots on the front and lifted me again to my feet. He strategically aimed my face away from his body and roughly pushed me forward toward the door.

With the sailor behind me and out of range of another dousing of puke, I risked speaking. "Sir, my baggage."

The man stopped short, but kept a firm grip on my lapel. My head snapped with the suddens stop.

"Well then you better pick it up," he said letting go of my clothes. "The cap'n only said to get you to the ship. If you want your baggage, you'll have to carry it yourself." When I didn't move quickly enough he pushed me forward with a more than harsh kick to my behind. "Get moving boy!"

I stepped toward my two bag which were near the far wall. With the second step, I realized that I had an enormous headache. The room started spinning, but I really didn't want another kick from the sailor. I was sure I would have a good bruise from the first kick. The only way I could seem to keep my balance was to run. So I trotted over to my bags, and heaved them up. With my bags in hand, the sailor once again grabbed my collar and forced me at a quick pace out of the inn.

The sunlight hit my eyes like hot pokers, but I didn't have any chance to let them adjust. The sailor kept pushing me along the street, now quite busy with the business of the port. The sailor kept me in front of him and steered me through the crowds. I couldn't have retraced our steps, and I could only keep my eyes open about a quarter of the time.

"By the way, boy," the man said with some obvious venom. "You ever call me 'Sir' again, and you'll get more than my boot to your a**. Save your respects for the officers -- especially the cap'n. You and me just serve at their pleasure, and as cabin boy, you pretty much serve everyone's pleasure." With a laugh, he cuffed the back of my head with his free hand. Although a cuff that hard from my father would have meant that I had committed the most egregious of sins, I somehow got the impression that for this tough old sailor, that he meant the action in a somewhat friendly action. I figured that the years at sea mad it impossible for him to make any sort of gentle movements, and wondered if I, too, would develop leathery skin and clumsy movements.

Suddenly, our course changed rapidly uphill, and upon opening my eyes I saw that we were moving quickly up a narrow ramp onto my first ship. I started to look up at the masts and spars, but the sudden crack of a whip against a man's bare back and the man's dreadful scream pulled my eyes down to the deck.