|
Post by spender on Mar 22, 2010 8:06:23 GMT -5
Spender stood up, rubbing at his left wrist. He'd had to tuck his cap and doll under his arm; he couldn't fathom why it hurt so much to clench his claws. It definitely wasn't broken - he'd broken things before and knew how that felt - but goodness it was painful!
"You're Spender Cielciosk I know, and if you could just choose a number from three to fourteen we'll get you on your way."
Luckily, all he had to do was play some silly number-picking game and he could go home again. Fantastic! A little weird that they'd drag him out of bed and beat him up for missing this, but, well, what wasn't weird in life?
The stripling ferret screwed up his eyes and wrinkled his nose in thought. Three or fourteen? No, no, three to fourteen. Which should he pick? Well, obviously whichever one came last. He liked last numbers.* The problem was he didn't know if anything in between three and fourteen was more last.** The ferret glanced at his paws and counted slowly under his breath.
"One... two... th...three... fi - no! - four ... si - five! - six, seven..." He faltered, staring intently at the eighth claw, but only drew a blank. "Seven... sev... ten! Eleven... twelve, threeteen..." Ah, here was the tricky bit. There was no "oneteen" or "twoteen" that he knew of. But there was definitely a "fourteen", and four came after one, two and three, so... unless fiveteen came before...
"Fourteen," he said aloud, looking back up at Ladorak after entirely too much time passed. Spender beamed proudly, as if he'd just aced a terribly difficult algebra exam. "Th'last number," he added, just to be sure.
He stared around at the group of kits and striplings, and shuffled awkwardly.
"C'n I go now?"
* It had all started when, during his second or third nameday party, he went through all his presents, counting each one as he did, and became sad that there was nothing else left to rip open. Then his father came to the rescue, pulling "the last number" from the closet. It was the simple fox doll he carried now, and not as fancy as his earlier presents, but something about that last glimmer of hope - and the amount of wrapping paper that filled the air thanks to his father's thorough approach to secrecy - somehow filled Spender, to this day, with a sense of happiness that never quite vanished.
** Spender did not take a very linear approach to counting.
|
|
|
Post by bookity101 on Mar 22, 2010 14:44:32 GMT -5
El smiled back at Caden,
"Yeah that sounds fun Caden, your gonna have to help me out on learning the ropes though." El shrugged "I was kinda busy getting ready to come." And trying to sneak around the house getting what was needed, finding the right things, getting it together, and out of the house took all her time. Though she did take the time to pack a few books on sea life, and the different positions on a ship, there was a book on first aid.
El looked over at Cerinus, smiling and putting out a paw.
"Hey there, I'm Elliot, I think you met my twin sister at the ball a few nights ago. She mentioned meeting a pine martin" She jerked her free paw at Caden, "..and a wood mouse, That must be you." Her smile changed to look like she was thinking.
"You're Cerinus, Right?"
|
|
|
Post by Ladorak on Mar 22, 2010 16:01:30 GMT -5
((I suggest looking at futtock shrouds on wikipedia if you want to know what they look like Can see why they're more dangerous to climb up too XD)) "Go?" the stoat crooked a brow. "Go? Heavens no! If you do that they'll just drag you back here again. Like it or not you've been enlisted into the Navy, and since you're not a legal adult yet you can't simply quit! That would fall under the law of desertion....and desertion is punishable by death. This is for all you!" he spoke more loudly now. "If anyone deserts....they face the death penalty. I don't want to see that happen to any of you so I must ask you stick around until at least your are 18 years up. That's....right." He said, looking down at Spender. "You're in for 18 years.....then you can leave at any time....or stay in longer. Of course....you can always get discharged when you're eighteen, but then you forfeit any pension and benefits you have. So the answer to your question is no.....you may not 'go now' as you put it." He pointed with his starter over to the kits. "Go and join them and we'll get started. From this point on you're mine. You chose fourteen, so you're a powder carrier....dashing back and forth from the magazine to the cannon you're assigned to. It's good exercise." he said, clicking his teeth in amusement now. "You must keep the vital flow of powder going from the magazine to the guns. It's quite possibly the most important job you'll have in combat." he informed the young ferret. "So! Let's get started then. Odd numbered crew will be starting on the Larboard watch, and even numbered crew on the Starboard....which means Starboard, you're going to be out of luck sleeping in your first night at sea, because you'll only be getting four hours of sleep." Caden felt relief cascading over him like a cool tide. He'd be going into Starboard watch, which meant eight hours of sleep for him his first night. "Larboard will alternate to Starboard watch on day 2, and Starboard will go over to Larboard. It alternates, every other day. This is essentially how it breaks down. Larboard watchers are on duty for fourteen hours, six hours of leisure time and four hours of sleep. Starboard watchers are on duty for ten hours, get three hours of training, three hours of leisure time, and eight hours of sleep. For the Idles....which none of your are but Jal Calone....who I don't see yet but who should be joining us, gets eleven hours of duty, four hours of leisure and nine hours of sleep." Caden was furiously trying to file this away in his head. It didn't seem too hard to remember. Larboard worked hard, but then they got more leisure time than starboard did but less sleep. So he'd be starting on that...and Cerinus would be starting on the one that got less sleep his first night due to going into Larboard overnight...alright....wasn't that hard to figure out. "If you need to get an actual schedule stop by the Admiralty Board and someone there will be more than happy to assist you in providing you with a schedule of the different watches on board. Now that that's out of the way.....let's get to some fun stuff. Hey! Quiet in the ranks!" he said, noticing that "Elliot", Caden and Cerinus were engaged in some conversation. Come on Caden....more discipline the stoat silently urged. "Here it's fine, but do not speak out of turn while on board. And NEVER strike an officer.....they can strike you but under no circumstances are you to strike them. It's a death sentence. Punishable in a very severe manner. Alright.....first order of business is making sail. We'll see who of you is fitted to work aloft, and who is going to be working the deck. Those of you who are skilled climbers will succeed at this and those that aren't well.....we'll find something else for you to do don't worry about that. Turn around then." he instructed, and behind them rested a mockup mast, complete with ratlines and shrouds. It was only about two thirds the height of a real mast, but still towered nearly 80 feet off the ground. Ladorak had constructed a wooden platform or “fighting top” in the upper reaches of the “mast.” “Goal is to reach the platform, called a fighting top. A mast has three sections to it. The mast itself, the topmast in the middle, which is confusing as above that is the gallant. For now you’re only making a climb up two levels, to a topmast. Observe that you have two ways towards the top with which to reach the platform. For you lubbers who are scared easily and afraid of falling you’ll just keep on climbing and pull yourself through the lubber’s hole. For those of you who are adventurous and true seajacks, the futtock shrouds are for you.” The Captain indicated some ratlines that projected out and up at an angle, connected to the sides of the platform. They were actually integral in keeping the platform steady. To climb up those, one had to be aware that a real ship would be rocking and swaying….and you could at some point have you back pointed directly at the sea if you used the futtock shrouds. They weren’t for the faint of heart. “Cerinus, Elliot, Spender, Caden! I want to see you get to the top now! Let’s move! Move! Move! We’re setting sail!” in this instance, Ladorak’s lightning orders were designed to get these kits (and stripling) used to moving quickly on their paws and hopping to their tasks at a moment’s notice. Caden turned to Elliot, gave “him” a nod and looked at Carrow, making sure to make eye contact with him as he placed his paws on the mouse's shoulders. “Hey Carrow…..don’t worry…I’m sure we can do this.” Caden noted too that Ladorak had spread out canvas mattresses over the ground under the mock mast, just in case a kit did suffer an unfortunate fall. He released Carrow moved over to Spender, slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on then Spender, let’s see who can get up there faster.” He was talking to Spender as if he were a comrade, not really caring what the ferret thought about all of this, as it was obvious he was confused. “Keep in mind, in real life the ship will be rocking back and forth…sometimes violently….and a fall could kill you….or if you’re lucky deposit you in the ocean but that’s rare. Now hop to it!” Ladorak was playing the part of the Boatswain in this case, as he was normally the one to pawdle this type of job, being in charge of the masts and rigging. There were four sets of ratlines…one on each side of the mast, and Caden headed over to one of them. Taking a deep breath, he looped his paw into one of them, then unlooped it, as if testing the strength. Taking a few more deep breaths, he braced himself and then started the climb….. ((tsk....and now I'm tempted to actually skip all this and just have them go to sea right now. XD Next month for sure definitely I think. ))
|
|
|
Post by Carrow on Mar 22, 2010 17:30:23 GMT -5
Cerinus smiled softly at Elliot as he responded to the beech marten's query. "Yes, I am. You look rather familiar, but then again I have been in contact with Elle before, so you're going to have to excuse me if I ever get the names mixed up. I enjoyed her company when she was here, and I recall was rather crestfallen when I found out she couldn't serve on here... shh," he told Elliot. "I know that I'm going to have to listen to Jal Fugate's words more than most." The mouse had in fact caught the ermine's command to cease their conversation, and he smiled sheepishly at the taill mustelid, before, as he had when first adressed, focusing his full attention on Ladorak's words. Right. What lay in store for him?
Truth be told, the mouse felt as though things didn't get off to be the best of starts when his watch was chosen for him. Starboard, right? Four hours of sleep on his first night out? His whiskers drooped a little as he was unable to conceal his disappointment.
Then a thought struck him. First night out? Hah, hang on a second!, he thought. This is me we're talking about here. I'll be lucky if I can even sleep at all in the first WEEK, never mind my first night out at sea where it seems danger and the chance of death will be lurking at every turn. I suppose it's actually for the best.
Never speak out of turn, nor strike an officer. That's easily done. I'm not exactly the most violent or easily angered of creatures, and I could never lash out at a surperior - I wouldn't even dream of it to be quite honest. The mouse wanted to display his eagerness to carry out orders... and then, at Ladorak's next words, he gazed up at the mast construct.
The breath caught in his throat, and his small paws trembled. Calm down, Cerinus... calm down, he told himself. Remember what Archie told you... The wood mouse's gaze came to rest ahead of him once again. He continued with rapt attention to listen to the Post Captain's instructions.
He could see Caden approaching him now. Good old Caden, he thought, smiling. He was just as comforting a presence as Archie, or even his own guardian. The pine marten was gazing into his eyes now in quite the friendly manner, and his gentle voice seemed to give the rodent confidence. He nodded, his eyes shining fiercely. He'd give this a whirl, no question about that.
The order to begin the ascent came faster than Carrow had really been expecting, but he knew that he had to wait at a tip-paw stance at this training session - be ready for anything. Just as well that he snapped to it when Jal Fugate gave the order. He dashed forward, having a quick look at his options.
He had been considering playing it safe and simply just heading up the shrouds the entire way - but then an idea flashed into his mind. He was looking to distinguish himself here, wasn't he? Show that even though he seemed to be constantly nervous about this, he could pull it off when needed. The futtock shrouds it was to be.
He placed his paw on one. It seemed to be rather uncertain of itself, and the youngster gulped. Oh well, here goes nothing. Grasping another line in close proximity to him, the Dibbun began to haul himself up. The feeling of supporting his own body weight had become less of a foreign sensation to him, and now, slow though he was (though it was hardly going to be expected of him to make like a squirrel up to the platform!), he began his ascent.
|
|
|
Post by bookity101 on Mar 22, 2010 21:04:37 GMT -5
El nodded, trying the knuckle thing again, and succeeding this time. He glanced over at the injured Spender, noting his wrists seemed bruised, and she knew that he wasn't the type to accept help from any one, jogged over to him.
"Hey, do you think you make the climb there? You don't seem like the climbing type." El shrugged and continued her way towards the tower, choosing to just climb the safe one quickly, instead of risking crashing to the ground, and being found out before she even had a chance to get to sea. El paused at the first step, took a deep breath, than began to climb thinking, "Its just a tree, its just a tree, its just a tree..."
About half-way up the "tree" El looked over her shoulder to find Spender, to see if he was able to get up the ropes after all.
|
|
|
Post by spender on Mar 23, 2010 3:21:24 GMT -5
“Come on then Spender, let’s see who can get up there faster.”
Great, Spender thought. First, I get told slacking off is a death sentence. Then I get told whacking someone is a death sentence. They'll probably tell me spitting is a death sentence, or saying naughty words. And to top it all off, Whitey F. McWhitefreakerton is going to brush off that stand-off during that dinner party and pretend he's all chummy...
The ferret had half a mind to clamber up Caden's ratline and attempt to pull the pine marten off near the top and get Caden a few broken limbs. But he wasn't going to risk putting his face anywhere near Caden's footpaws...
With a grunt in reply to Elliot's (Spender barely remembered Ellie; he had no idea who this beech marten was, and did not care to find out) comment, Spender trundled over to the last untaken ratline, slammed his cap on his head, and began working his way up.
He'd played on rope swings as a kit, and was no stranger to trees, either. In fact, one of his favourite pastimes was climbing the ladder out back onto the roof and, making sure the fireplace wasn't lit, doing his very best Santa Claws impression. The resulting ash cloud in the sitting room made his mum flip. It was great. Plus he got to get dirty!
But this was a whole different experience, really. The rope ladder swung oddly with his weight on it. He felt a bit ill, or was that just the pain in his wrist? He found he could hardly grip with it. He had to make do with biting the rope, keeping his free paw out of the way by clutching his cap on.
Scrambling though he was, progress was not going well for him. His footclaws tangled in the rope, his nose bumping the rungs ahead as he tried to bite and missed... He tried not to look down. At the halfway point, he was much higher than the roof of his parents' house. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights... he was much more afraid of the ground, and how much it would hurt if he fell.
There was no way he was going to beat Caden.
Stuff the futtock... I'm taking the easy way once I get up there... then I'll shove that idiot over... hah...
|
|
|
Post by Ladorak on Mar 23, 2010 15:02:34 GMT -5
Caden's progress was slow and clumsy, as he wasn't used to this. He'd climb trees no problem, but ropes were quite a different matter. His footpaws sometimes fell through and he would collapse onto the ropes, resembling for all the world a spindly legged spider that had no idea how to walk a web.
Grunting and baring his teeth, the determined marten pushed on, not letting his uncertainty get the better of him. Inside he was quavering worse than an earthquake, but his exterior presented a shell as solid as any granite statue. His pink eyes blazed with a light of intensity that it looked almost as if fire could emanate from their depths.
His arms started ache about halfway up, but he kept on. He was slightly ahead of Spender from what he could see, and could only picture what this would be like on an actual pitching and rolling ship. The futtock shrouds were ahead of him directly, and he drew closer to them with each haul. He could proceed straight ahead and try and get through the futtock shrouds to the lubber's hole, or he could make the attempt at scaling the futtocks themselves.
Figuring he may as well get used to it now, Caden stood up and pushed his body outwards, grappling with the ropes that comprised the futtocks and struggling to get a good grip as he began to ascend them up to the crown at the top of the mast, the fighting top. The place that red coated Marines would be standing in combat and pouring a harassing fire down onto the decks of an enemy's ship in close quarters combat, hence the name "fighting top."
Pulling himself up paw over paw, Caden's sore limbs began to yell out in fatigue. His back was towards the ground now, so if he fell he'd topple onto the ordinary shrouds first and then probably roll down onto the mattresses at the bottom.
Feeling his strength giving out and the sweat creating a slimy pool in between his pawpads and making them slick, the albino nearly faltered at the top. His left claws slid off the ropes, and his foot paws lost their grip as well, and he shot out, hanging by just his right arm.
Gritting his teeth, he could barely hold himself on now. He wanted to just let go and allow oblivion to claim him, but he could see Ladorak down below. The brown stripe down the top of his head led Caden's eyes to Ladorak's own, which were dark, judgmental, and the stoat was currently wearing a frown, his brow creased in contemplative thought. Almost as if to say If you fall here, you'll never make Midshipjack, much less able seajack.
The adult stoat stood patiently with his starter behind his back, tapping it along the backside of his uniform as he watched his ward dangle. It felt as if his stomach was being ground into bits just watching the young kit teeter on the brink of falling like that, but he kept his composure, only giving Caden a scowl in response to his pleading look. You won't get any help from me in situations like this out at sea....so why expect to now?
Caden knew Ladorak's exact thoughts, and it fired him up and gave him a burning will to succeed. Crying out, he thrust his left arm up and forward, the edge of his claws digging into the top of the platform. Straining with what might his muscles could muster, the albino heaved as hard as he could, and bit by bit...gradually....gradually....he pulled himself over the edge and rolled down onto his back, sucking in lungfuls of air and hearing cheers break out from the kits below on the ground.
His heart pounding in his chest and threatening to burst his rib cage, the marten exhaled and looked up at the sky, the blue heavens smiling down on him as if in congratulations. Caden couldn't ever remember the sky looking so good in his entire life.
Breathing an inward sigh of relief, Ladorak's face relaxed visibly and he set about to see how the others were doing. He'd assign them their roles and their masts based on how well they performed in this little initial exercise.
|
|
|
Post by Carrow on Mar 24, 2010 8:51:34 GMT -5
Cerinus was by now quite close to the point where he would have to grab a hold of the futtocks. The mouse was making slower progress than his two friends - and his adversary, for that matter - but not because he was unfit for the task. Being a rodent, he had smaller paws than the other three who were all mustelids, meaning that he could only cover small areas at a time.
It almost made him want to be some form of mustelid in all honesty. He gritted his teeth now as he continued pulling himself up along the ropes, paw over aching paw. He knew that right now, should he fall, there was a near seventy-foot drop into space waiting for him. He knew also that while there were mats back on ground level, he would of course do something to his back. Cerinus recognised how important having a good back would be in times to come - that is, if he even made it - for of course, all of this climbing they would have to do.
The mouse was unsure if he could go on from here, but he heard his carer's voice in his mind. He thought of Ladorak and Caden. The former would be disappointed he hadn't given it his all; the latter devastated that he wouldn't be serving alongside him on the voyage. Oh, we can't have that, can we, Carrow!, he told himself. Give it all you've got.
With these thoughts firing him, he took a tight hold of the ropes that made up the futtocks, after waiting a moment to judge that the timing was right. He didn't even eant to think about what would happen if those small paws of his came away clutching thin air. Cerinus exhaled and began by far the most dangerous part of the exercise: getting up to that fighting top.
His back was now angled to the ground, seventy feet below him. The rodent wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but all the same this was new to him, and he felt a slight chill streak up his spine. This was the chill of fear. What if he didn't make it...? Stop thinking like that! You wouldn't want to fall at the first hurdle, would you? This was true. If he was going to give up, he didn't want to suffer the humiliation of doing so at the first attempt.
Cerinus was now halfway between his starting point and the edge of the platform. His paws were sweaty as he finally began to feel the pressure he was under. His heart was going a mile a minute, but as he arched his head back, he thought he could just glimpse the edge of that platform. He made his way to the edge, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt his lungs would burst. He saw that precarious angle before him now, and he gulped once again. It was now or never.
He reached up and took about as firm a hold of the platform's edge as he could possibly manage under these dangerous circumstances. He would now have to literally heave himself up into safety. His footpaws were dangling now, eighty feet above the cushioned floor. I'm going to do this, he told himself. I have to. Hoisting himself up, he tested the weight of the platform by pushing his paws into the wooden surface. All well and good. Now, about getting up...
He was well aware that should he make a desperate snatch for firmer ground and fail, he would fall - but it seemed he was left with no other choice, being about as far from an acrobatic creature as you could possibly get. He began swinging back and forth, all the while builiding momentum until he was sure the time was right. Then, on an inward swing, he let go... and executed a small somersault, putting all his strength and concentration into the landing. Incredibly, Cerinus managed it with little difficulty. He landed carefully on both paws, and immediately slumped into a weary sitting position, before lying flat out upon the timbers. His little chest was heaving now, but even though his limbs and lungs were burning, the youngster hardly felt it. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins was like nothing he had ever experienced. It had been an intense, not to mention tense starting exercise, but he'd made it - and that was all that mattered.
|
|
|
Post by bookity101 on Mar 25, 2010 22:59:51 GMT -5
El had reached the futtocks, and she was almost out of energy. She hung by her elbow's, looking for the easiest way up. After hanging for a few moments, she saw it, a weaving that was closer together than any other path, and it led straight up to the fighting top. After another moments rest she started up, climbing swiftly up last amount, having changed her mantra to, "Don't look down, don't fall, don't look down, don't fall..."
Just under three minutes later, El was heaving herself up over the top, and laying face down catching her breath. After a moment she rolled over staring at the sky.
"Well... that was easy..." El moved to the edge of the platform and glanced down. 'Woah, this is high up...' then turned back to her companions.
"Umm, does anybody know how to get back down??" *****
Luxe Calone smiled as he looked up at Caden and the others as they ascended to the top. They didn't do to bad considering they were still kits and striplings. Luxe approached Capt. Fugate from behind, calling out as he reached him,
"Captain Fugate, Sorry I'm late sir. Got faulty directions at the administrations building." He assumed a loose rest position.
'Is there anything I can do sir?"
|
|
|
Post by Ladorak on Mar 26, 2010 1:04:02 GMT -5
"Well...I think we just go back down the ratlines. We can go down the lubber's hole though...that'd be so much easier than going down the futtocks." Caden responded to Elliot, sitting up after his breath returned. "I don't think I'll be using the futtocks right away either at sea...if it took this much out of me....." but before he could continue Ladorak finished his thoughts.
"Hey! Enough loafing around! You expect to just collapse when you get up there at sea? You'll have to shimmy out on pawropes in order to get those sails unfurled. So come on, on your paws!" the Captain shouted.
Caden sighed, and lay back down then rolled over onto his belly and got up on all fours. He looked down at the ground below him. "Yeah.....it'll be a lot higher during the real thing." he told Elle, and looked over to Spender's ratlines. That lazy ferret...he still wasn't up here yet.....so the marten assumed he had to wait until the lout got to the top. He elected to stay on all fours, as Ladorak didn't actually specify which paws to get up on.
Ladorak was watching Spender from the ground. Come on....you're almost there... he thought, before noticing Luxe approaching. "Ah Jal Calone yes...you're not too late. You're lucky your Warrant Commission makes you an Idler, and thereby not obligated to show up. I've gotten an Assistant Armorer for you whilst on board....you should like the fellow. But yes...I'm just testing their climbing skills. They're winded far too easily however....Caden really needs to get into better shape." he mumbled that part low enough so that only Luxe could hear him.
"So I was about to assign them their posts on the ship when they're not at quarters. You'll be helping me out here soon enough however. OK! Let's get down to your personal assignments!" the stoat spoke more loudly this time, so that the rest could hear him. "These will be random but partly based on your first performance. Once Spender gets to the top I'll paw them out. Possible choices are foretop, maintop, mizzentop, forecastle, afterguard, poop afterguard, and waisters."
Ladorak turned to Luxe again. "That and I'll have to ask them what Petty Officer position they'd like to apprentice for, if any." he explained. Each of them could become an understudy to a Petty Officer, and hope to succeed said Officer one day....and then of course go beyond that to the Warrant level, which the Petty Officers were all understudies of.
|
|