Sammy?!

Galligan gripped his bony fingers around the rim of the barrel and pried it open, his nose immediately getting bombarded with the stench of rotten fish. "Jesus!" He swiftly moved to shield his face with his hand.

"Everything alright over there?" Dahl asked, raising his head up from the barrel that he was peering into.

"Course not! Whole barrel reeks of death, all of it's rotten. Yah can't smell it?!"

"No, not from over here, I can't!" Dahl answered with a chuckle. "Need my help disposing of it, Sammy?"

Sammy...?

The word echoed in Galligan's head as the two stewards stood in an awkward silence. Had Fillip really called him that? "Galligan," started the Swede, "I-"

The Irishman grabbed the other, pulling him in aggressively so they were eye to eye. "Don't yah dare call me that, understood?" The Swede quietly and quickly nodded. "And not a word to 'nother soul on this ship."

"Of course, Galligan. This is between you and me." After Fillip had promised not to tell anyone about Galligan's new nickname, the Irishman finally let go of the other's collar. "Well, still need my help with that barrel?"

"No, I can handle it on me own." Galligan muttered before turning his attention back to the foul-smelling barrel before him and began trying to lift it, trying to hide his struggle with the weight. Fillip turned his head away as he tried not to let out a chuckle, and then he got back to work with his own barrel.

Trying not to burn his hand on the hot mug, Galligan fumbled to close the door behind him. He was already flustered by the whole 'Sammy' incident but Nichols' incessant whining wasn't helping. "Jesus, Galligan. It took you long enough. Thought I would have to make the drink myself!" He snatched the drink and took a swig, burning his tongue on the beverage. Wincing as he set the mug down, he once again began complaining to Galligan. "God, this is so hot! I want my tea to actually be drinkable. Why didn't you wait for it to cool down?"

"Because... that Swedish bastard insulted me earlier!" Galligan grumbled. "He had the gall to call me Sammy as if I was still a small lad! Only person who gets to call me that is me mam, god rest her soul."

Nichols, unable to stop laughing mid-swallow, choked on his tea. He began to splutter and cough.

Galligan raises an eyebrow. "Is something funny, sir?"

"What? No, no, not at all! I can't believe he'd call you that!" Nichols said, feigning concern as he tried to regain his composure. "How rude of him."

"Someone needs to put that damn Swede in his place."

"Right right, I'll be sure to bring up something about.. ensuring respect among you stewards in the daily meeting tomorrow morning," Nichols said dismissively, wishing for Galligan to leave his quarters now that he's received his nighttime mug of tea. "Well... thanks for the tea, Galligan..." There was another awkward pause before Nichols spoke again, realising his steward wasn't getting the hint. "You're free to head on to your own cabin now. You can pick the mug up in the morning."

"Ah. Right..." Without another word, Galligan turned to leave for the night, his mind put at ease that another incident like the one earlier will not happen again.

The morning after, Galligan and a few of the other stewards stood patiently outside the officers' mess, waiting for their superiors to be done with their meeting so they could go in and clean up the dishes they would be leaving behind. Though Galligan could not hear the exact conversation they were having, he hoped that Nichols had brought up what was requested of him concerning Dahl's punishment. He couldn't help but glance over to the Swede and give him a nasty smirk, anticipating some consequences for his rudeness. That bastard could say goodbye to his incident-free track record that had held strong for twenty years.

Suddenly, Nichols' voice raised, letting his words reach the stewards outside the doorway. "Oh, Sammy! Would you please come in here for just a moment?~"

Galligan froze slightly; the other stewards had to stifle their laughter and Roderick even had to bolt off as he was unable to contain his amusement. The Irishman could even hear the muffled chuckles of some of the officers in the mess. It took all of Galligan's willpower to not burst out with rage. How dare Nichols humiliate him like this! Unfortunately, he wasn't able to do much else than calmly walk into the mess and stand by Nichols. "Yes, sir?" He asked through gritted teeth.

Although his face seemed normal on the outside, the steward could see a glint of mischief in Nichols' eyes. "I dropped my fork on the floor. Do you mind picking it up for me and getting a clean one please?" Shaking with rage, Galligan bends over and picks up the fork. He then leaves the officer's mess but, instead of getting a clean fork like Nichols asked, he gave the fork a quick scrub with his apron before re-entering the mess. 

By now, Nichols couldn't contain the shit-eating grin that was now plastered on his face. "Thank you, Sammy."

"Is that all, sir?" Galligan asked, hyper-aware of the other officers looking at him with amused expressions.

"That's all... for now. Carry on." Nichols said, still smirking.

Eager to leave the humiliating situation, Galligan swiftly turned on his heel and left the mess. He hadn't failed to notice that the other stewards were still chuckling to themselves. Betrayed by his own officer. How degrading.

"Why am I the one that has to do this and not you?" Davey questioned nervously, peering down towards the stewards' cabin.

"Because, can't always let Galligan push you around all the time! Gotta stand up for yourself for a change! And besides, if you do it, I'll give you a bob." Roderick reminded him.

Davey sighed, fearing the worst but trusting that the older boy was trying to be genuinely helpful. He took a deep breath, put his hand on the handle, and opened the door. When they entered the room, the two boys could see the older steward about to get into his berth. Galligan turned to glare at them, obviously not pleased to see the boys on his break. "What do you two want?"

Davey was mildly terrified, immediately forgetting what he had been coerced into saying. Roderick gave him a prodding nudge in the side with his elbow. "C'mon, say it!~" he teased.

"Uhh... need an extra blanket, S-Sammy?" The words spilled out of Davey's mouth all at once.

Galligan flared up, rising to his feet. "Why, you little-" He gritted his teeth and charged over to Davey, opening his palm and raising the hand above his head. Bracing himself for the hit, Davey closed his eyes and tensed up.

"Davey, could you come over here?" It was John's voice; Galligan's hand stopped mid-swing, and Davey quickly scampered away before Galligan got the chance to hit him. Roderick followed suit.

Galligan grumbled to himself. "Damn and blast!" At least he could nap in peace now.

Despite the earlier incident, Davey did his best to continue with his chores on the ship as normal. He was currently on his knees, scrubbing dirty clothes with a bucket of rainwater and trying not to get upset. The latter was much harder to do since he was still shaken by the sight of Galligan raising his fist at him. It was the first time anyone at sea had shown aggression against him; he had always been a well-behaved boy so officers never had reason to punish him, physically or otherwise. But he hadn't got the time to be upset as he had plenty of work to do.

Carrying his own load of laundry, Paul said a quick hello before joining Davey. The boy responded with a noticeably shaky voice. It was quite odd; Paul knew Davey to be a quiet and sometimes shy individual but something seemed wrong.

"Is there something bothering you, son?" he asked. Looking closer, he could see a film of tears on Davey's eyes, and he was biting his lip. He was very clearly upset and was doing quite a poor job of hiding it.

"It's nothing," responded Davey, "I just got soap in my eyes is all."

"Are you sure?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Davey couldn't hold in his emotions anymore and burst out crying. "Galligan tried to hit me! Rory had this stupid bet and it all went wrong and he didn't even give me the stupid money he promised! I don't want Mr. Davies to think I was being rude on purpose!" The boy scrubbed his tears away as Paul patted his back reassuringly.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Nothing bad is going to happen to you," he said calmly, waiting for Davey to calm down a bit before continuing to speak. "What exactly happened, if you don't mind me asking? Why did Galligan try to hit you?"

"Rory said he'd give me a shilling if I called Galligan 'Sammy' to his face, because apparently he really doesn't like being called that. So I did it, and that's when he tried to hit me."

Paul was slightly taken aback. Galligan was really going to hit a child over a silly nickname? He was such a vile man. Absolutely pathetic, too.

Davey nervously asked Paul, "I'm not going to get into trouble, am I?"

"No, no. Don't worry. You keep scrubbing those clothes lad and I'll go talk to Galligan."

"Oh, a-alright, Mr. Moss. Thank you."

"No need to thank me, just doing my job." Paul stood back up again, and left the boy to his task while he tracked down his Irish coworker.

Galligan startled awake to a violent knocking, almost banging, at the cabin door. What now? Was it really so entertaining to those little shits to torment an old man just trying to take a nap?! He trudged over to the door, prepared to actually hit the brats this time, but was taken aback when he saw Paul glaring at him. Galligan opened his mouth, trying to find the right words but Paul cut him off first. "I heard you raised a hand at Davey, nearly hit him."

"Aye, I did. He and that Andersen boy, the little malaperts, they-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You know you don't have the authority to do that, especially over something so trivial."

Galligan sneered slightly. "A good thumping is the quickest way to teach children some respect. Any grown, sensible man should have the right to that."

Paul furrowed his brow. "Do I have to report this to Captain?"

Pursing his lip in annoyance, Galligan shook his head.

"Right," continued Paul, "There should be no more issues then, should there?"

Galligan grumbled under his breath. "...Of course not."

"I'm glad to hear it. If I find out about any more incidents like this, there's not going to be another warning from me. I'm going straight to Witterel about it."

"Understood."

"Have a nice rest of your nap, Galligan." Paul said as he exited the room, knowing full well that there wasn't enough of Galligan's leisure time left for that to be possible.

It had now been a couple days since the initial 'Sammy' incident with Fillip and (much to Galligan's dismay) the nickname was spreading to the rest of the crew. He now had seamen and topmen hollering the name at him. He hated it. He had been avoiding Fillip for as much as he could since then, holding a nasty grudge over what he had done. But there were some instances where he just couldn't get away, like now, where they had again been assigned to do the same task together: cleaning up a mess of rum and broken glass after a few seamen got a bit carried away with partying the night before.

The two men swept in silence. Fillip could tell Galligan was not in a mood to talk judging by his aggressive sweeping. Still, he felt the need to clear things up with the Irishman.

"Uh... Galligan?" The other man ignored Fillip, still sweeping. "Galligan, can we talk?"

"No. I'm done talking with you."

"I just want to apologise again for what happened. It was honestly an accident and I don't know how the rest of the crew found out. I haven't told a soul, just like I promised."

"Not a soul, eh? Then how can the others know if you haven't been blabbing to them in your spare time?" Galligan gritted his teeth angrily, staring accusingly at Fillip.

"Like I said, I don't know! Only you and I knew."

"If only you and I-" Galligan stopped mid-sentence as he recalled again that conversation he had with Nichols not long after it had first happened. He told Nichols, and from Nichols, it spread to everyone else. All of this bullshit was Galligan's fault all along. None of it would've happened if he kept his mouth shut just as he forced Fillip to do. He clenched his teeth even harder, to the point they were hurting from the force. He didn't have any words, not immediately. 

With a sigh, Galligan stopped sweeping and turned to Fillip. "Look, it got out somehow and that's just how it is now. Let's just let the whole thing go. There's no need to discuss it further."

"So, you accept my apology?"

Galligan begrudgingly nodded.

Fillip smiled. "We can all be friends again!" exclaimed the Swede, wrapping an arm around Galligan's shoulders. Galligan scowled, never recalling a time when he and Fillip were friends in the first place.

Galligan grabbed a stone-like piece of hardtack and plonked it onto the plate he was preparing for Nichols when another person appeared in the galley beside him.

"Galligan? Could you hand me one of those, please?" It was Zungi, indicating the pile of the biscuits on the counter.

Galligan.

He didn't call him Sammy; this was the first time someone had addressed him properly in ages. He stared at the other steward with slight disbelief until Zungi asked him again. "Um, Galligan? Are you feeling alright?"

"You called me Galligan?"

"That is your name, is it not?" Zungi was puzzled.

He sighed in relief. "The crew picked up a new habit of calling me 'Sammy' as of late. It's felt like years since someone called me Galligan." 

"Oh..." Zungi paused. "I am truly sorry, Sammy. I did not mean to be so rude."

"What?"

"I will call you this from now on, if that is what makes you happy?" And before Galligan had a chance to say otherwise, Zungi grabbed the hardtack himself before leaving the galley.

Sammy sighed, accepting his new name.