An Investigation into the Habits of John Brown

Crew 1: I can’t ever figure that John Brown, even though I’ve sailed with him for a couple of voyages now. He’s the largest man on the ship—gotta be twice the size of many of us—and looks so fierce all covered in tattoos and the wild way he carries himself. But he mostly sticks to himself, all quiet like and even gentle about most of what I’ve seen him do. And when he does talk to people he always has a smile on his face and is quick to laugh. Really about the friendliest man in the crew in his own way. And to think the way he could bully us around—he could probably run this ship if he ever chose to act like you’d think he would to look at him.
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Chef: Most people assume John Brown doesn’t say much because he has trouble with the language, but he’s picked up plenty and does fine when he wants to. My theory is he just doesn’t see any need to waste words and only uses them when he really has something to say. But even then he never just says whatever point he’s trying to make—he always seems to talk circles around it and never quite gets there, but you get this sense of the territory he’s trying to cover. My favorite times to listen are when he’s telling tales of the gods where he comes from, all fierce storms and giant waves and huge powers that make men puny. Most men worship their gods with reverence and joy, find inspiration and hope in them, but that John Brown talks about gods like they’re just something to be feared. Maybe raged against, but mostly feared.
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Captain: John Brown. I’m sure he has some other name in his native tongue, but the only one he’s ever shared on deck this boat is John Brown. Says that other name is from a past life if you really push him, but he doesn’t even like to admit he was ever anyone else if he can help it. And he’s funny about it, too. He won’t answer to just John and if you try calling him Mr. Brown he corrects you. Really it’s easier if you just think of his name as Johnbrown.

The name was given to him by his previous ship—I’m not sure if it was captain or crew. I suppose they chose John because it was common and easy and Brown due to his appearance. That’s the only other ship he’s known to my knowledge, and I believe the experience was both good and bad for him. He had a rather defeated look when I took him on, so I asked the captain what he knew. They had picked him up a couple years prior when blown off course during a storm. They made land at an uncharted island for repairs and he begged to join them. Didn’t know the language or anything of ships, but was so desperate the captain took pity. At first he was despondent when not coached aggressively, but he gradually picked up the skills and language to make a passable sailor. Since he switched to my ship, oh, three years ago now, he’s continued to improve and has become about the most reliable crewman I’ve ever known. He’s still largely unassuming, but we’re a better boat for his presence.
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Crew 2: That John Brown, he’s got secrets I tell you. I seen him one night dig deep into his chest and pull out something wrapped all in cloth. He thunk the rest of us was asleep, see, so he slowly unwrapped it and held it up. At first I couldn’t make out what it was, just that it was long and big and hard. He started talking to it in some language I ain’t never heard before, all soft and kind of like he was praying. Then he got another cloth and some oil and polished it up, and that’s when I got a better look. It was some kind of wicked club, made from dark wood and with patterns drawn all over it like the ones on his skin, like they was two of a kind and made to go together. Sure, he seems all kind and soft, but I think one of these times he’s gonna pull that thing out and clobber the lot of us in our sleep.
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First Mate: Having John Brown on crew is one of the best things for morale I know, but I don’t know how long he’s going to last at this rate. He always volunteers for the hardest, most dangerous work available. The more dangerous the better. The rest of the crew loves not having to worry about those duties because they can always count on John Brown to take care of it, but he relishes the work with such recklessness that I fear for his life. I asked him about it once and, like usual, he gave me some roundabout answer that I’m not sure was really an answer. It was something about the strongest warriors in battle are those who don’t care if they live or die because they have nothing to lose, so they slip into a battle trance that allows no room for thought, pain, or fear. Something along those lines, at least. I guess he meant that’s the way he works, and it’s a pleasure having him to take care of things, but I still worry.
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Crew 3: That John Brown doesn’t talk much, but I’ve seen it happen. Just once, when we were in port and he got further into the ale than I’ve ever seen him. It was long and rambling and hard to make sense of, but after thinking on it long and hard I think I can put together some kind of a story about him. I’m sure I have some of the particulars wrong, but this is the way I think of it now. He grew up on this island and was the pride of his tribe. Son of someone important, maybe the chief or whatever you’d call it. He was the strongest and fastest at anything athletic, best at all the skills, something to be reckoned with in their community, and never knew the meaning of the word failure. He was just coming into manhood with a wife and young child when some kind of disaster struck. I couldn’t make out if it was the ocean or a war or what, but whatever it was he blames himself for the death of his family. Felt it was his duty to protect them and he didn’t. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. His community was supportive, tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but John Brown wasn’t having any of it. So when this strange new ship showed up one morning, he jumped at the opportunity to leave his shame behind and start over as a new man. I know he doesn’t like to think about it so I keep that story to myself for the most part, but I think that’s more about his past than just about anyone knows.
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Second Mate: It took a while for John Brown to really learn the ways of a ship and the intricacies of our language, but now that he knows how to use his knowledge in our setting he’s a treasure. They say he grew up on an island and spent more time in the water than on land. I can believe it. He’s become almost unnaturally talented as a seaman, with a canny familiarity with the ocean’s currents, weather, and wildlife. The captain makes the calls around here, of course, but when I can I always get a second opinion from John Brown. When they disagree about anything, more often than not it’s the captain who’s wrong.
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*I’m from Kansas; please forgive my weak nautical knowledge and terminology.