Chapter 6: Don Napoleon
Back in the open sea, Rodion’s strike fleet had been assembled. Their respective captains were manning the ships, and Alexei had graced them by the introduction of a new device – what he introduced as the “magic talk box” was actually a set of Red Army walkie-talkies.
“Hey, Captain Lyubovko!” said Rodion into the walkie-talkie, grinning with a playful air, “Can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes! I can hear you!” the Captain of the Czarevitch responded.
Rodion turned and slapped Alexei on the back.
“This device is magnificent! My whole crew must be equipped with these magical talk boxes!”
“Um…” Alexei replied, a little regretful, “You took all my ‘magical talk boxes’, admiral.”
“Oh we did? Do you know how to manufacture them, then?”
“No.”
“Oh well – I guess these will have to do. Many thanks!”
“Yeah… welcome, I guess.”
The strike fleet was now nearing the coastline of the Philippine island of Buglas. They had avoided Spanish vessels along the northern coast for several weeks and chose instead to attack the Visayan Islands in the middle of the archipelago, which were much less defended and practically forgotten by Spanish authorities who had problems enough in the northern regions.
During their long travels, Rodion had revealed to them that they were on a request from the Czarina to take back gold that had been stolen from the Spanish garrison that had been stationed on Buglas. Rodion’s mission was to take it back from a certain native pirate by name of Bangsawan.
But that was a long way from where they were. Vodka and local fish had kept the crew happy during the entire voyage, and there was always a wide variety to catch from these seas. Seeing as they were about a day’s journey away from Buglas, the admiral decided that it was high time for some fishing.
Nicolette and Shruiken had already boarded the Peregrine. The Scorpion boarded because Major Kazansky refused to leave unless he could remove this so-called curse from his family and keep himself alive in the process.
Shruiken had joined the expedition upon the persistence of the prophetess Valeri that he was needed for the full effect of the counter-curse. Something to do with blood… but he obliged anyway, since he needed to “take care of his little sister.” Hitteru Midori was willing to go on the voyage, but ironically said that she went along to “prevent her older brother from hurting himself.”
In the meantime, the main concern was food. Rodion’s men were busy hauling nets into the sea and taking fish out by the school. Suddenly, the men saw something large adrift in the water – it looked like a body, wrapped in seaweed. Curious, they decided to take it out of the water. Putting it down on the deck, they removed the seaweed and uncovered the body of a man in a frilly pink suit and a nightcap pulled completely over his face. The men first looked at each other, then at the man. He was clearly alive, as he was snoring. He apparently slept like sea otters, all wrapped up in seaweed like a blanket. The first man poked him with a pole to get a reaction.
Suddenly, the man stretched, letting out a long yawn. Removing the nightcap, the two sailors could see that his face was dark-skinned. The man spoke,
“Aragay! Ka sakit sang ulo ko – . . . hulat lang anay, diin ko subong?”
The sailors stared at him, wide eyed.
“Tulok mo da?” asked the man.
The first sailor blinked and rubbed his eyes, and muttered, mouth quivering,
“N… ni… nigger.”
“Hambal mo?” asked the man, rubbing his own eyes.
“Nigger…”
“Nigger!” the second sailor joined in.
“Ga neeger-neeger kamo da haw?” asked the man, scratching his forehead.
“Nigger!” the first sailor yelled to the other crewmen.
Within seconds, marines and sailors darted out from their cabins and stared at the dark-skinned, pink-suited man, sitting up on the deck on a blanket of seaweed.
“A linte, damo-damo sa inyo ba.” said the man, getting to his feet.
The sailors were suddenly thrown aback as he rose, and then froze and stared at him like frightened animals. He was a tall man, about six feet tall – but that frilly pink suit was a major offset.
“Te ma tanga lang kamo da?” said the man, putting his arms on his hips.
A long pause.
Suddenly, the sailors erupted in a chorus of,
“Nigger! Nigger! Na sudne est’ cherniy chelovek! Nigger! Nigger!!”
“’nong gina wakal ‘nyo man…” said the man, scratching his head and walking towards them.
However, at his first step, the men ran from him and went to alert the admiral, who was dozing off in his cabin.
A marine burst into the admiral’s cabin and yelled,
“Comrade Admiral! There’s a nigger on the ship!”
Rodion, who had his hat tilted below his eyes, took a peek to see the marine and then said,
“Get that foreigner – ah, you know, Charnaiz. He probably speaks their language.”
The marine saluted and rushed to get the Gondwanan king.
Meanwhile, the man was surrounded by a twelve man semicircle of marines, all pointing their rifles at him while he sat on a chair in the middle, saying to the lot of them.
“Te, sin-o da sa inyo gusto ma-itot sa akon?”
The riflemen looked at each other, then back at the man, not understanding.
Then Charnaiz arrived, shouldering his way through the crowd.
“Out of the way, comrades, I need to see this for myself.” he said. “Well – look what we have here. It’s a… nigger…”
“Abaw ah…” said the man, “agi-AGI sang chura mo bala…”
Charnaiz frowned.
“That’s not a nigger – that’s a native! And he’s calling me a fruit! Well, I’ll show him!”
It is at this point that the storyteller does not wish to elaborate on the lengthy exchange of insults before the arrival of Major Kazansky.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kazansky said, breaking through the crowd of sailors gathered to watch the war of words. “This native could be of use to us!”
Charnaiz threw a final swear before crossing his arms and pouting.
“I need you to translate for me.” said the major.
“I’m not going to do it.”
“Ah! English-spokening kamo gali?” said the man. “Tingala man ko na daw ka law-ay sang Ilonggo mo!”
“Did he say English?” asked Charnaiz. “I’ll strangle him!”
“Wait, a wait okay?” said the man. “I did not yet ah… wala pa ko ka-pakilala sa imo. Ako gali si Don Napoleon.”
“He says his name is Don Napoleon.” murmured Charnaiz.
“Ask him if he knows where to land on Buglas.”
“I understanding you, sir.” said the Don, “I just bad English, okay? You don’t go to the baybay because there many pirata there.”
“Something about pirates on the beach.” said Charnaiz.
“Is there another way in?” asked Kazansky.
“Siempre naman. There big lungib. Ah… you know, keev?”
“He said cave.”
“All right. Ah – how do we get to the cave?”
“You ah… give me sex first yes.”
“He said—“
“I know what he said dammit. Why?”
“I want love yes. You know, ah… damo ko bayi sa una, pero nag… ah… ano – nag pigado ko, te nag halin sila sa akon, no? Te ari ko di subong, ga pangaluyag sa mga bayi kag kis-a sa mga laki man…”
“You don’t want to know what he said.” Charnaiz said, shaking his head.
“Okay – tell this pervert he can have Natasha after he shows us where the cave is.”
“You can’t be serious.” Charnaiz said with a raised eyebrow.
“My brosim ego za bort posle.” (We’ll throw him overboard after.) said Kazansky, grinning.
“Ahh… good plan.” nodded Charnaiz. He pointed to Natasha, who was leaning over the railings, and said to the Don,
“You can have her if you show us where the cave is.”
No comments:
Post a Comment