Air-sickness? Passepout thought, what's that?
The healer assured them that it would, and the two left the shop, almost as quickly as Passepout's question left his mind.
The two travelers had pitched their red-plumed helms overboard before the riverboat passed through the River Lis, and felt confident in the safety of their true identities, or at least as safe as travelers could be in Faerun.
Volo booked them passage on a merchant vessel called the Amistad's Bounty that was bound for Arrabar, down the Dragon Reach, and through the Sea of Fallen Stars, under the able command of Captain Bligh Queeg, a legendary ship captain and disciplinarian of the high seas. They were allowed first-class accommodations, which were private, provided they were willing to sleep in an above-deck storeroom rather than in crews' quarters or the hold.
The captain was at the gangplank when it was time for them to board. He was a short dumpling of a man who wore the uniform of a veteran of the Cormyrean Freesails and had a posture straighter than the main mast of the ship. In one hand he held a pair of metallic marbles, which clanked together while he extended the other hand to greet the new arrivals to his ship.
"Mister Volo, and Mister Passepout, welcome aboard," he declared with all of the formality of a Tethyrian noble negotiating a treaty. "We shall be setting sale shortly. Our cargo has been loaded, and we are merely awaiting the arrival of my first mate, Mister Nordhoff."
"What type of cargo are we carrying?" Volo inquired.
"Assorted metals, furs, and slaves for the coast of Zakhara."
"Oh," the master traveler replied, depressed that the cloud that had covered his early sea journey persisted in following him.
Queeg responded to what he considered to be a safety concern of his passenger.
"You need not worry about them," he explained. "They are all well chained in the hull, and, unlike other captains, I never allow them on deck until our final destination has been reached."
"Don't they need exercise?" Passepout asked, having witnessed a session on the riverboat during one of his bouts at the rail.
"Their condition is no concern of mine," Queeg answered. "I get paid no matter what shape they arrive in. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do. I am sure you will find your quarters suitable, and hope that you will be able to join me and Mister Nordhoff for dinner in quarters tonight. We will be serving strawberries for dessert."
Queeg did a perfect military about-face and headed for the quarterdeck.
The accommodations were all that the two travelers had been promised: a dry, but cramped storeroom above deck that rocked with the slightest movement of the ocean. If it hadn't been for the cleric's cure, both Passepout and Volo would have had an extremely unpleasant journey ahead of them. As it was, the two travelers slung up their hammocks in a corner and took a nap while the ship got underway.
Several hours later, Volo was awakened by the cries of someone being beaten on deck. Leaving Passepout snoring loudly, he ventured forth from the safety of their cabin to the front of the ship, where a half-elf was being flogged by a scar-faced dwarf with a whip.
Volo asked a well-dressed man who was standing by watching it with gritted teeth, "What's going on here? The captain said that the slaves would never be let out of the hold."
"The half-elf is not a slave," the man replied. "He's a member of the crew. Am I addressing Mister Volo or Mister Passepout?"
"I am Volo," the master traveler replied.
"I am Nordhoff, the first officer," the man replied. "My name comes from the orphanage in which I was raised."
"Nordhoff Hall in Westgate?"
"Exactly."
"Why is he being flogged?'' Volo asked carefully, not wishing to seem presumptuous.
"Because the captain ordered it," Nordhoff replied. "He claims it instills discipline in the crew if one sets an example early in the voyage."
Even more carefully, Volo further pressed the first officer with a question. "Do you believe that?"
"Bloody no!" he replied with perhaps more vehemence visible than he had intended. "I also don't believe a ship's cargo should be kept secret from the first officer until after the ship has set sail."
"I take it you don't support the slave trade?" Volo pressed.
"Bloody no!" he answered, as if cursing under his breath. "But I follow orders as a first mate is expected to."
Volo returned to his cabin to arouse the still-slumbering Passepout, so that they might prepare for their dinner at the captain's table.
Queeg had already started his meal when Volo and Passepout joined him in his cabin.
"I hope you don't mind my starting without you gentlemen," said the captain. "You can never be too sure if land-lovers will be able to appreciate a good meal their first night at sea."
"It's quite all right, Captain," Volo replied.
"Mmmppgh," Passepout agreed, his cheeks already bulging with fish chowder.
"I see that the sea has had a positive effect on his appetite, eh, Mister Volo?"
"No, Captain," Volo replied with just a touch too much formality, "he always eats like that."
"Mmmppgh" the thespian agreed, nodding as he chewed.
Before the conversation could move on to the next level of courtesy, the cabin door opened and Nordhoff entered and took his proper place across from the captain.
"Mister Nordhoff, did you see that crewman was flogged like I told you?" Queeg asked, not looking up from his bowl.
"Yes, Captain," the first mate replied.
"Good. I will always tell you what I expect of you, no more, no less."
"Begging the captain's pardon," Volo asked, "what was his offense? The half-elf, I mean."
"Nothing you should concern yourself with, Mister Volo," the captain answered patiently. "You can safely leave the running of this ship to Mister Nordhoff and myself." With that, he pushed back his dinner bowl and rang the bell for the cabin boy, saying, "Enough of this. It is time for dessert."
The cabin boy entered, looking as white as a ghost.
"Marlon," the captain bellowed, "where are my strawberries?"
"Sir," the boy whimpered, "they forgot to pack them."
The enraged captain leaped to his feet with enough force that Passepout could have sworn he felt the entire ship rock underneath him. "They forgot to pack them! They forgot to pack them! What are they, imbeciles?" the captain raged.
"No, Captain," Nordhoff answered, still sitting at his place, "they are men who made a mistake. Perhaps other concerns of getting the ship ready to sail took precedence. Or perhaps they were concerned with whom you would pick to flog, once we got underway, or maybe they just didn't think bringing your strawberries on board for your dessert was that important."
The captain's tone changed to one of controlled rage.
"Mister Nordhoff, your tone is mutinous," he said. "Earlier today you questioned my decency as a man for aiding and abetting the slave trade. Then you hesitated in following a direct order."
"The half-elf was innocent of any offense. He did not deserve to be whipped!"
The captain continued, not responding to the comments of his first mate.
"Now, you dare question my judgment in front of this ship's passengers. I shall not stand for this!" he bellowed. "Consider yourself relieved of duty and confined to quarters!"
Nordhoff stood up and turned as if to leave for his quarters, but turned back for a moment when he opened the cabin door and said, "… And you, Captain Queeg, can consider this a mutiny."
In through the opened door rushed three sailors, one of whom was the scourged half-elf. All carried cutlasses.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," said Nordhoff to the shocked travelers, "would you mind returning to your quarters temporarily? The captain and I have some business to attend to, and I assure you no harm will come your way."