Chapter Thirty: Galley of Celestial Delight
They began their tour below decks, deciding to save the captain's cabin for last. No point in putting on something new and then getting it all dirty down in the holds. The junk was certainly unusual-looking on the outside, but a ship was a ship and below decks offered a layout not too terribly different from those built in Europe. In Pam's opinion, it was more spacious and well-thought out in its design. The cabins were larger and the hallways surprisingly higher. None but the tallest of the men would have to crouch as they moved about. Everything was clean and dry, the wood well-caulked and painted with some kind of preservative stain. They found a large storage bay with its deck doors open to let in the bright southern sunlight. Pam walked around its shadowy recesses, lifting tarps and poking at oddly-shaped barrels marked with the wispy brush strokes of strange languages.
"We should find out what all this cargo is," Dore said, peering into the shadows at a plethora of crates and sacks neatly made fast to the walls and floors. "We may have something of value here. It's likely we will need to trade for supplies sometime in the voyage to come."
Pam made a slow turn, the light from above catching her hair and bringing out flashes of gold amongst the dishwater blond locks. She was smiling and Dore thought she looked like an angel. Dore was greatly pleased to see her friend happy after such a long ordeal.
"There's enough room here to make a pen for a flock of dodos." Pam said brightly, "They would have fresh air and light when the weather is good and be well-protected when its not." Her voice was filled with a hope she had not felt in a very long time. "We have another chance now. Maybe I can still save the dodos, bring a breeding population back to Europe, if we accomplish nothing else."
"Of course you can, Pam. We will help as always," Dore encouraged her.
They left the cargo hold to continue aft. After climbing some stairs that could have passed for ladders they arrived in a room that made Dore emit a gasp of delight. It was the ship's galley and it was . . . wonderful. There was a pipe built into the wall from which either stored or freshly-caught rain water in barrels on the deck could be drawn with ease over a deep porcelain sink. Next to this was an open window, its square panes made of a thick, ivory-colored laminated paper that would let in plenty of light to work by even when closed. There were fat candles placed here and there for after dark. Pam and Dore entered the seemingly cluttered, yet actually highly-organized space, not sure where to begin their exploration.
Hundreds of small drawers and cabinets dotted the walls and filled the spaces under the wide, wooden counters. A peek into some of these revealed dry goods, what might be flour, sugar and many dried herbs and spices. A variety of unusually shaped pots and pans hung from a rack above an iron wood-stove. Pam recognized a wok and a steamer. Even though their shape's were strange, she knew Dore would be able to put them to use. Latched drawers held a dazzling array of cooking implements and tools, including ladles, skewers, meat forks and many items less easy to ascertain the purpose of. The room was filled with a delicious aroma of woodsmoke, strong scented herbs and fresh salt air. Immediately adjacent lay a pantry chock-full of dried meats, fish, fruits, vegetables, and many more as yet unidentified items. There was even a row of pots with live herbs growing on a shelf beneath a window. Dore and Pam both clucked over these and immediately watered them with a teapot. They had obviously suffered under the ship's pirate occupation.
"Good gawd, Dore, it's like a modern kitchen! More like a restaurant kitchen than something you'd have at home. It has everything but an electric dishwasher!" Pam exclaimed, overwhelmed after months of coconut-shell soup bowls and clamshell spoons. She didn't say it to Dore but vowed to herself that she never, ever wanted to eat coconut and crab curry again. Ever!
The galley of the Redbird, despite being built with several up-time style conveniences, was a greasy hole in the wall compared to this. Pam noticed a cylindrical ceramic pot filled with what must certainly be chopsticks. She pulled two of them out to study them; they were about eleven inches long, one quarter of which was squared and the rest rounded, cut flat at the ends, made of a smooth, yellowish wood that had been stained darker on the rounded, food grabbing end, presumably by use.
"Hey, Dore, I think I know what country this boat is from-China!" Dore looked at her friend with eyebrows raised in interest. "These are called chopsticks and they're used for eating. When my son Walt got old enough to behave reasonably well for an hour or two, we started going out to eat once a month and tried a lot of different kinds of restaurants. There were lots of Chinese places around and even a couple of Japanese over in Morgantown. Once we tried Korean food up in Pittsburg, but it was a bit too spicy for the guys. Anyway, I'm pretty sure these are Chinese-style chopsticks. The Japanese versions are shorter with pointy ends and the Koreans make theirs from metal. I have no idea why, because they sure were tricky to use. The metal was slippery!"
Dore looked on with a certain amount of amazement. "It's sometimes hard to believe that you lived in such a world, Pam. You make food from the Far East sound commonplace, available just down the road, when in our time most know little about the world beyond a few miles!" She reached over to the holder and pulled out two of the slender wooden rods herself. "I don't see how these could be used to eat," she remarked after giving them a careful study. She ended up holding one in each hand like drumsticks with a mystified expression on her face.
"I'll show you!" Pam began to demonstrate. "You put them both in one hand like this and pick up the food between the ends. It's tricky at first but you get the hang of it pretty fast. Especially when you're hungry!" She opened a few drawers until she found what must certainly be dried peas. "Here, watch!" Pam deftly picked up one pea at a time and made a row of six across the counter as Dore looked on, wide-eyed. "I guess I'll have to teach everybody how to use these. I think we left all the clamshell spoons back at the beach. My ex-husband never could get the hang of it. He always had to ask for a fork." With several flicks of her wrist she put the peas back into their drawer and slid the chopsticks back into their container with a satisfying wooden click. "Yup. Must be Chinese. They like their food all right, pretty fancy stuff! I'm not too surprised they had this nice a setup even in these times. Well, lucky us!"
Equal Rights, Part One
June 3, 1631
The phone stopped ringing before Olivia Villareal could snap the spring into place and reach for a rag to wipe her hands. Then it started again. Four quick strides and she was out of the kitchen and across the front room.
"Hello?"
"Mom, you gotta get down here! The Wildman is raising hell. He's in the alley banging his piece-of-shit truck into the dumpster and the fence trying to turn around. He's hollering 'There's no business like show business' over and over! Jeez!"
"Did you call the cops?"
"They said they'll come when they can. I think something's going on downtown. His mother won't come, and Linda said she'd serve him on toast if she came at all. Hurry, Mom!"
"All right, try to keep the customers from getting upset. We'll get there as quick as we can. Carlos! Leanna needs us down at the laundromat, right away! Jimmy Wild's raising a ruckus."
Olivia's green pickup was the closest to the end of the driveway. She was already cranking the starter when her husband slid in carrying a baseball bat. If the cops weren't even coming, to heck with the driving ban.