Fango
07-16-2005, 12:20 PM
Part I
It is about 1667 when out recital begins, by the treacherous water of Locnè island. Some will tell ye it's all a fib, a "contrivance of our fancy" if you will; but I've been there, I've seen it in me own blinking eyes. The famous ship Skullflat, a pirates frigate, was collecting new swabbers to board.
See, every few months it was the same old story, once people got their meed - they scuttled off. It was old men replaced by young, or rich replaced by poor. Either way, each time the bloody thing happened the ship was swarmed with a batch of unfledged wastrels.
It was me job to teach them the ropes, figuratively and literally.
Now that scrubby day in Locnè we got an especially disappointing bunch: Most of them too old, or too young, too fat or too scrawny. The sight of those measly-sordid bunch begotten sighs and snorts. It was quite bizar that me sharp eye caught one of the scrawnier younger ones gripping a book. Most of us, naturally unlettered, assumed it was the Bible in his hand; but I reckoned it wasn't thick enough. Either way, there is no need for a book when you're on a pirate's ship - everyone will tell ye that much. If ye ask me, I say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one who can read or write should go on the account. But if you really want to know, I didn't thought he would last one blasphemed day.
The few men, now sitting on the crisscross ropes were in a mocking mood as they watched their new crew boarding. Their snide-eyes caught the reader.
‘Houd vast,’ they cried, ‘we got ourselves a polymath on board!’
Now the large boatswain marked the comment. Without scruples he marched to the lad and grabbed the book from the his unbosselated hand.
‘papers are dispensable here, swabbie,’ he said, then tossed it to the ocean.
You would assume, as everyone on board did, that someone who read so much would have something to say. Instead, as per of everyone's amazement he jumped to the water and dived after the book. He was there was quite a while, some figured he was at Davy's John Locker by then, but after a few moments he appeared with the bloody book in his hand! Some men were entertained by the act, and they threw him a rope. As the lad came on deck, all slobbery and salty, the boatswain smirked approvingly. ‘If yer willing the sink aft yer papers, I bethink you merit 'em.’
Don't befool yourself to reckon he got our utter respect from this point on. In fact, most of the crew found him triflingly pathetic. Truth be told, as it must be, it was me first impression of him too.
{Edit; feel free to comment}
It is about 1667 when out recital begins, by the treacherous water of Locnè island. Some will tell ye it's all a fib, a "contrivance of our fancy" if you will; but I've been there, I've seen it in me own blinking eyes. The famous ship Skullflat, a pirates frigate, was collecting new swabbers to board.
See, every few months it was the same old story, once people got their meed - they scuttled off. It was old men replaced by young, or rich replaced by poor. Either way, each time the bloody thing happened the ship was swarmed with a batch of unfledged wastrels.
It was me job to teach them the ropes, figuratively and literally.
Now that scrubby day in Locnè we got an especially disappointing bunch: Most of them too old, or too young, too fat or too scrawny. The sight of those measly-sordid bunch begotten sighs and snorts. It was quite bizar that me sharp eye caught one of the scrawnier younger ones gripping a book. Most of us, naturally unlettered, assumed it was the Bible in his hand; but I reckoned it wasn't thick enough. Either way, there is no need for a book when you're on a pirate's ship - everyone will tell ye that much. If ye ask me, I say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one who can read or write should go on the account. But if you really want to know, I didn't thought he would last one blasphemed day.
The few men, now sitting on the crisscross ropes were in a mocking mood as they watched their new crew boarding. Their snide-eyes caught the reader.
‘Houd vast,’ they cried, ‘we got ourselves a polymath on board!’
Now the large boatswain marked the comment. Without scruples he marched to the lad and grabbed the book from the his unbosselated hand.
‘papers are dispensable here, swabbie,’ he said, then tossed it to the ocean.
You would assume, as everyone on board did, that someone who read so much would have something to say. Instead, as per of everyone's amazement he jumped to the water and dived after the book. He was there was quite a while, some figured he was at Davy's John Locker by then, but after a few moments he appeared with the bloody book in his hand! Some men were entertained by the act, and they threw him a rope. As the lad came on deck, all slobbery and salty, the boatswain smirked approvingly. ‘If yer willing the sink aft yer papers, I bethink you merit 'em.’
Don't befool yourself to reckon he got our utter respect from this point on. In fact, most of the crew found him triflingly pathetic. Truth be told, as it must be, it was me first impression of him too.
{Edit; feel free to comment}