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Post by Ladorak on Feb 8, 2011 23:25:41 GMT -5
It was night now. Eight rings sounded out at the ship's brass bell. Ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding. They rang out in pairs, as they were easier to count that way. It meant the end of the 2nd Dog Watch, and the start of the First Watch. It was 8 PM now. 8 PM off the island of Personza in the Cobalt Sea. It was the end of the leisure time for the striplings who were on the Larboard Watch tonight heading into the Starboard Watch in the morning. That meant only 4 hours of sleep for them tonight.
The 2nd Dog Watch went over to the hammock rails, retrieved their designated hammocks, and began bringing them down below as the First Watch came up to relieve them. It was time for the Starboard Watch to start sleeping until midnight, when they would relieve the Larboard Watch at the commencement of the Middle Watch.
The First Watch was not particularly difficult. All the crew had to do was wander the ship for four hours and make sure nothing was amiss, as well as keep a sharp lookout for enemy sails on the horizon. No real work was conducted in the night hours, as no lights were permitted to burn on the vessel after dark, thus rendering real work nigh impossible. The Agamemnon rode lazily off the harbor of Bastia, the republican capital of Personza. There were no enemy ships in the harbor as far as the crew could tell, but needless, they needed to prevent enemy ships from getting in.
On the other side of the island, the western side, their comrades in arms in the Army were busy laying siege to the port of San Fiorenzo. The operation to take Personza was well under way, and Agamemnon's crew knew that soon, they would be called upon to take part in the attack on Bastia, after San Fiorenzo fell. They needed a base that was close to Toulon after they'd been driven out, and Personza fit the bill, being only five days sail from the Rosferian harbor.
There were three cities that needed subjugating however: San Fiorenzo, Bastia, and Calvi. The former was currently being besieged, and the latter two were under blockade for now.
Caden stretched his arms a little as he walked up onto the weather deck. He had spent his leisure time right after Supper sleeping in between some guns, catching what rest he could or reading if he had been unable to sleep. He mostly studied in his off time, but still took the time to have some fun.
He had to admit, he rather liked the First and Middle Watches. There was nothing really to do except make sure the ship didn't sink in the middle of the night, and watch out for enemy ships on the horizon so the ship wasn't taken by surprise. It was sort of an unwinding time for him. Work but not really work. He looked around for any of his companions, wondering if they would be up here for the start of their shift.
The albino began heading forward, towards the bow, taking note that Captain Fugate was still up and about on the quarterdeck. He must have a shift tonight as well. Caden could go see him at some point, as he had privileges, being a Volunteer Class I, that got him on the quarterdeck without invitation. He walked over to the starboard gunwale, making the decision to go aloft tonight into the fighting tops to keep lookout before switching with those below wandering the ship. He wanted to wait to see if any familiar faces showed up before he mounted the ratlines however. Leaning against the gunwale, the marten swept his pink eyes out to sea, giving the horizon a cursory glance and looking for any signs of billowy white shapes that would indicate sails.
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Ladorak Fugate had opted to stand part of the First Watch tonight because he wasn't so much restless as he was expecting a report to reach him soon. The evening mail had been dropped off by the packet, which had promptly departed into the vanishing sun after Supper. Now he was out by the ship's wheel, the Quartermasters and their mates clustered about the said contraption as they recorded the time and adjusted their course. They were cruising off Bastia's entrance, back and forth as they tacked and brought themselves in and out on a set patrol pattern.
The ermine Captain shivered a little in the somewhat cold air. It was in the lower 40s, but the lack of sunlight made it feel colder. It typically got into the upper 50s at this latitude during the night, so it was a rather pleasant climate overall, with almost no sun except on some of the mountains on the island's interior.
He was losing his patience with General Dundas. The Army officer was supposed to be supporting the attack on Bastia after he took San Fiorenzo, but indications were that he was now sick, and probably not going to be moving any time soon after the latter fell. It disgusted the ermine, and he was of a mind to command the expedition to take Bastia himself, Army or no Army.
"Captain Fugate sir..." he turned to see one of the Stewards at his side. "Your genealogy results Captain. They arrived tonight." The Steward held out an envelope for him, and the ermine's claws closed around it eagerly.
"Thank you." he said, and dismissed the Purser's subordinate. He had asked some professionals back home to look into his lineage, as he was curious to trace his ancestry as far back as it would go. His clue was the white patch on his forehead that never turned brown, as it was his birthmark, and he figured it ran in the Byng family all the way back. "OK so let's see..." He slit the envelope open with a claw, and pulled out the documents.
"Ladorak Fugate, son of Ascleris Judaken, also known as Edmund Byng. Edmund Byng, born 1722 to Robert Byng, born 1700 to Sir George Byng, the 1st Viscount Torrington, who in turn was born 1663. His father was John Byng, Esquire. Let's see here..." He ran his claw over his father's side, not having opened his mother's documents yet. He knew he was descended from Mathews on her side, but it was his father's side that really interested him. His paternity so to speak.
"Let's see...let's see..." he kept muttering, trying to trace everything as best he could. The coat of arms of the Viscounts Torrington was interesting...but he was determined to make his own if he was ever ennobled. So... "Aha!" he finally exclaimed, jabbing his claw down at "Silver the Stoat...I knew it!" the enthusiasm in his voice was evident as he spoke. "Not to be confused with Sylver the Weasel. Monty's ancestor. Silver the Stoat was the son... only known surviving that is, of Badrang the Tyrant. Badrang was noted to have a unique splotch of white fur on his forehead that did not turn proper brown in summer. This trait was passed on to his descendants, though apparently skipped some generations. That would explain why I lust after combat... why I simply can't stay away from a good fight. It's in my blood." he murmured.
His claw tapped on the piece of parchment in a methodical, thoughtful manner. "Badrang the Tyrant... you old dog... well mustelid technically, let's not confuse our families here." he chided himself quietly. "Killed by Martin, the poor soul. Well... I guess not really. Former corsair and 'Emperor' of Marshank. Would hardly call him a poor soul." He glanced up at the sky now, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky.
He wasn't exactly disappointed in the results. To have such a distinguished ancestor as Badrang... it didn't exactly surprise him that the Byngs had come from him. Sir George's defeat of the Ferlusanian fleet at Cape Passaro was proof that the warrior blood ran within them... and himself as well. As did a love for the sea... an insatiable appetite for it in fact, Badrang being a former corsair and all.
Folding the papers back up, he stuck them in his jacket for now, and began pacing about the quarterdeck, a small smile on his features as he did so.
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Post by bookity101 on Feb 9, 2011 22:03:40 GMT -5
Elle wandered about the ship, enjoying the peace that came with these night watches. It seemed that these quiet nights were some of the best since she had come to sea. On nights like this she could simply relax and think about… whatever. The things that she might have been doing at home, the different animals she had seen, the many different places they had been and the many beasts she had met and the way things had changed since she had set paw to the deck of the Aggie. She sighed slightly and smiled, this was the best! She made her way towards the ratlines during her meandering stroll of the ship, where she spotted the first of her comrades she had run across since this watch began.
“Hello Caden.” She dragged out the ‘L’ sound as she padded up beside her albino friend. “What’cha waiting for?”
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Post by spender on Feb 10, 2011 0:13:08 GMT -5
"Dah."
Spender threw down his brush. The moment he got comfortable! Bloody bell... No one understood how hard it was to move a whole paint set so it wasn't in the way of anything! There was the pad of paper and the cup of water and the little tray of paints and the brush kept falling out of the cup of water and the paper kept crumpling and you got pink all down your shirt! And when the sun kept going down and you tried to find a nice nook with a bit of lantern light to keep going and then all of a sudden you had to stand up and do what? Nothing! Walking around looking at stuff! For four hours! ... not that he really minded.
His audience sighed, leaning back. They had been entranced by his artistic endeavors so far, even though all he'd managed to do was draw a blue triangle, outline it in green, and give it some wiggly yellow lines to stand on. Tally was more concerned about the act of painting itself, while Reisender didn't care what was painted, so long as he got to splash the brush for Spender between colours.
Of late, the mouse and pine marten had been inseparable. It gave Tally purpose to look after the younger creature when his father wasn't around, and Reisender returned the favour by giving her ample reason to keep an eye on him. If he wasn't getting into trouble in one way, he was thinking about getting into trouble another.
The Wrights had chosen to stay on the ship a little longer—by Keinruf's estimation, it saved more time to wait until the ship stopped at a nearer port than it did to go by land from Calgary. Nobeast had told him the Agamemnon would be put on blockade duty, however, and the sickly marten huddled in his corner all hours... when he wasn't gambling with Molly and the crew.
Tally knew what the bells meant, and began helping Spender close up his new paint set.
"Awww," Reisender said. "Wanna do a paints m'self! Can I can I can I can I do a paints, viggle-ferret?" No one knew why he'd chosen to call Spender "wiggle-ferret", but the nickname had stuck. "Can I can I can I pwomise I von't chew on it."
Spender carefully tore his picture out of the pad. "Fine," he said.
"I vill look after him," Tally announced. "Ve vill not be makink mess. Ve vill put paints avay after picture, ja?"
"Ja!" Reisender waved his arms in the air happily.
Spender left the two and wandered off to... wander around. His body went one way and his mind went the other, occasionally returning to see why his body had run into something or tried to tip itself over. Since the incident at Christmas, Spender had returned to his secret stash that Molly had given him so long ago. He had given it up after their first battle, when it seemed Caden had forgiven him—played chess with him, rescued him; Ladorak had given him a nice warm drink and everything had seemed swell. And then he'd forgotten all about it until he returned to the ship with his wounded sparrow friend.
The sparrow had not made it. Spender hit the stash hard after that, and now spent his days in a daze—not that anyone would be able to tell, as no one bothered to interact with him in the slightest. He was no more incapable of basic shipboard functioning under the influence than he was above it. His attention span couldn't get any shorter, and his scholastic efforts, if anything, only improved the more he zoned out during classes. Above all, the drugs robbed him of inspiration—to play, to fight, to act out, to joke. He had become what he most feared: boring.
And everybeast seemed pleased with this. Even Peskers didn't seem to care. As long as they were on the ship together, she kept up her end of the ruse, bullying him and snarking at him as she always had.
Spender would have been devastated by this, were it not for the drugs taking even the ability to feel sad away from him. He was blank, thoughtless, and as close to bliss as he could ever be.
Willard hugged the letter to his chest, giddy as a kit on Christmas morning.
Mail! Finally! His first letter from home! Proof that all he'd done this past year had paid off! He would savour this, yes, open it nice and slow, and read it aloud so Ags could hear how his mother was doing. Maybe the letter would be written by his sister! She was supposed to be taking lessons in writing, after all, to help her brain organize things better. And maybe, just maybe, there would be news of Captain Castrigg! A new tale of courage and adventure! Maybe he could glean clues from the story into his whereabouts, and keep an eye out. Maybe Castrigg was here, at this very moment, secretly captaining one of the ships on blockade!
"Aaaaaeeiiiiieeesobrilliant," Willard squealed, clinging to the thought as a huge grin split across his face, scrunching it up so much that his glasses nearly slipped off his snout.
The winter-whitened least weasel danced and twirled for a moment, before straightening suddenly. He gave a cough, lifted his head and saluted the steward.
"Thank you, sir!"
The steward shook his head, chuckling a little as he moved on to the next beast who had mail that evening.
Willard swooned his way towards his favourite patrol route around the main deck.
"We just got a letter, we just got a lee-eetter, we just got a letter—wonder who it's from?! Zheeeeep!"
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 10, 2011 2:34:31 GMT -5
Caden brightened when he saw Elle approaching. He eagerly grasped her paws in his own, but quickly dropped them as he realized they weren't exactly the only beasts out here right now. He gave her a knowing smile, and pointed up above them. "Let's head into one of the fighting tops and keep lookout. I was waiting for you actually... or any familiar face really. I feel like taking the foremast... that way we'll be right at the front of the ship and can watch the sea moving by underneath us. Always liked that about the bow." the albino explained, starting to head forward toward the foremast.
He paused briefly to get a drink from the scuttlebutt, and turned to watch her as she moved with him. "What did yo think when I took you into Florence Christmas Day?" he made sure to keep his voice low, so that only she could hear. "Actually... it might be better to discuss this when we actually get up there. Then we can talk."
He stepped up onto the gunwale, climbing the small ladder that led through the shrouds and onto the ratlines. Gripping the tarred ropes, the marten started his ascent, sticking on the windward or in this case starboard side of the vessel. He was used to this by now, but still feared the rigging work and being out on the yards. He was going to use the futtock shrouds... even though it terrified him to do so. But he needed to get used to this, as he had been doing over the past several months.
Using much of his now well developed upper body strength, the albino marten grappled and pulled his way up onto the futtock shrouds, hauling himself arm over arm until he reached the fighting top, yanking himself up and over the top to settle down on the platform and breathe a sigh of relief.
He turned to see if Elle needed help getting up, or if she would just use the lubber's hole. Caden wouldn't blame her, as he still used the lubber's hole on occasion. Either way, she'd been at this a while too, but just in case, he was standing by. He could still claim to use the lubber's hole more often than he used the futtock shrouds after all, but he was trying to get used to them, and was getting gradually better each day. It was still a work in progress.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ladorak walked the decks of the ship, heading down onto the main deck. He was going to speak to Caden, but found he didn't have the opportunity at the moment, as the marten was heading forward with Elliot. He watched his ward begin the climb up the foremast, and smiled as he watched him go. He was learning and developing more every day, and it did the ermine proud to see him that way.
He noticed and heard Willard dancing down the deck, and stopped him mid spring. "Whoooa there Willard. And to what is all this Jal Waters? You got a letter? From home I take it? Must be exciting, receiving communications from your family. Why not open it?" the Captain suggested.
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Post by Carrow on Feb 10, 2011 17:18:39 GMT -5
After he'd taken supper with his companions, Cerinus Apodemus had decided that he'd go down below and try to get some rest. He had been getting into a habit of not spending his post-supper leisure time asleep, but on this particular day he had felt completely exhausted, and so had chosen to take those few hours out. He'd gone down to the lower gun deck (a place where he had become quite fond of sleeping), sat down against one of the cannons, letting his tail curl around his footpaws, as usual, before he drifted off. Carrow had never been sure why he did this, but he supposed it made him feel a little more comfortable, and as all of his friends knew, if there was one thing Carrow needed to get even a small amount of rest, it was comfort. He hated the fact that tonight, of all nights, the time when they would be allowed to put their hammocks up was when the First Watch would start. He liked his hammock, mainly because on nights like this it would sway very gently from side to side in the breeze, and this motion was something he was rather fond of. It helped him to sleep, and reminded him of Archie and her comforting ways.
He slept about as deeply as he could under normal circumstances - which is to say, not very deeply at all - but he still managed to get some benefit out of his rest. He didn't wake from his sleep on his own, however: he was woken instead. He was gradually lifted from his slumber by a sound close by to him. It was a sound he had become familiar with through the many dark nights of the soul he had been through. It was the sound of a creature crying, but for the first time in years it wasn't him who was weeping. Instead, it was a certain long-tailed weasel who had been rather distressed recently. He had stealthily joined Carrow in slumber, but while the mouse's nap was about as peaceful as could be expected, Selvis Frenata had not slept easily, which was why he was now staring into space, shuddering slightly as tears matted his fur. There was an expression of agony on his face, and it was for this reason that Carrow was particularly shocked when he sighted his weasel companion. His eyes, which had steadily opened, became clouded with concern.
The rodent crawled over to his friend on all fours and was soon by his side. He gently placed a paw on the mustelid's shoulder, unable to think of what to say. He'd never seen the weasel so upset over anything. Frustrated, sure (something he had seen clearly when Selvis had blown up at Spender on Christmas Eve back in Florence), but never truly upset. Selvis sniffed loudly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Oh... h-hello, Carrow... I'm s-s-sorry you have to see me like this...," he said sadly, fighting the urge to bury his head in his paws as he looked into the mouse's eyes, his own brimming with tears. He could see that his friend was worried and he didn't blame him at all.
"Selvis? What's wrong?," Carrow asked kindly, wiping away the weasel's tears with his other paw before hugging him. He was going to do all he could to help Selvis out of his despondent state - even though he wasn't yet aware of what had caused it. "Don't worry, matey, you can tell me," he assured him, smiling a little despite everything. He hadn't been feeling all that good himself, but knowing he had good friends around him had stopped him from falling further into sorrow - this was something that had worked for quite a while and showed no signs of ever ceasing to. His friendships made life worth living, and any single one of them could have sustained him on his own. He cared so deeply about his companions now that it profoundly troubled him to see one so obviously in turmoil.
Selvis smiled too as he realised what Carrow was trying to do to help him. He hugged the mouse back, then took his paw so that they both could stand. The weasel began heading upstairs, and Carrow was right by his side. "It's something that's been troubling me for quite a while now. I'm sure you know how strained the alliance between my country and yours has become?" Carrow nodded, well able to understand how he would feel about this. He seemed intensely anxious about it from the way he spoke, and that was something to which the mouse could relate very well indeed. "Well, I'm worried that if things deteriorate any further, I will never be able to go home again because I'll automatically be arrested for treason. I'll never be able to see my family again if this alliance breaks down..."
He sighed, before continuing as they made their way up a flight of stairs. The ship's bell rang out as they walked, and Carrow nodded, realising that the First Watch was due to begin. He reckoned he'd be needed up in the mizzenmast soon enough, but then again he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't know where Selvis would be going, either; he wasn't aware the weasel had been assigned to any place in particular. He didn't need to worry about that, however; now, he just needed to help his friend out. "Oh, don't talk like that," he chided him gently, patting his back. "You'll get to see them somehow, I'm certain of it. Who knows what might happen? Do yourself a favour and don't think of it as a foregone conclusion. Have you been writing letters to them?," he queried.
The pair's brisk walking pace meant that they were making steady progress. They had gained another flight of stairs at this stage. Selvis shook his head, exhaling sharply in frustration. "No, I haven't... I really have been trying to, especially lately as I've been thinking about them a lot, but every time I try to do so I just get so depressed I can hardly think... I know I should write to them, but this is something that's really hit me hard." Carrow knew that for sure. Two things had given it away, the first being that the normally energetic weasel had decided to sleep after supper (and the mouse was certain he had quite literally never done this before in all the time they''d known each other); the second, that his eyes were looking unusually bloodshot as of late. Something told Carrow his friend had been in a bad place for the last few weeks, even if he had tried his best to cover it up.
Now, though, it was out in the open, and the rodent told himself he would be there for his long-tailed friend and help him to start overcoming the sadness that had seemed to envelop him since Christmas Eve. He knew that Selvis hadn't always been down since then, but when he had been he'd been in far worse form than any time before. "Don't worry about it so much, Selvis," he responded softly. "For now, they're still there, and whenever you feel able to give it another try, I'll be there to help you. I'll even lend a paw writing it if you like." Selvis raised his head at this and smiled at his field mouse companion. Carrow smiled too. "Yes, of course. it'd be something like, you tell me what to write and I'll put it down." By now, the pair were approaching the flight of stairs leading to the weather deck. "Oh, er, on that note - and please forgive me if I sound rude or anything - but how is your parents' Welkin?"
As they took the stairs, Selvis shook his head, smiling a little. "Oh, you're not being rude at all, Carrow," he assured his mouse friend. "It was a perfectly good question. Now, from what I can remember, we always spoke Ferlusan at home - and even though I've been speaking your language most of the time I talk to Elliot in Ferlusan every now and then; he's practicing it and thinks having a native speaker around is quite helpful - but once in a while we spoke Welkin, every now and then when we needed to. My dad, Trelio, well I'd say he's fluent because of all the travelling he's been doing. Briga, on the other paw, isn't fluent but she has a pretty good command of the language by anybeast's standards. So they won't have any trouble understanding either of us. 's that alright?," he asked Carrow as they stepped onto the weather deck. Selvis was sure he could see a pair of familiar martens up ahead - and one of them was already settled in the fighting top.
Carrow nodded. Selvis caught the gesture, but his mind was already on something else. Even despite the blows his spirit had received over the previous few weeks, Selvis was dying to try the futtock shrouds. Of the mouse and weasel, he was the more adventurous of the two. Carrow stepped ahead of him, however, as he had sighted Caden and Elliot as well, and was quite eager to touch base with them after getting a decent sleep for the first time in a while. He smiled and tipped his cap at the beech marten before going through the lubber's hole. It wasn't that he lacked the courage to try the other route (though if one were to ask him about this they would probably receive an altogether different answer - Carrow didn't exactly perceive himself as courageous, to say the least), but his balance problems were putting him off riskier ventures. He really did not want to chance a fall, as that would mean another while in the Sick Berth, and that was the absolute last thing he needed. He was soon settled too, and sat down beside Caden, smiling warmly at his pine marten companion. "Well, hello there! Enjoying the view, eh?," he asked mischievously, winking, evidently in higher spirits than was normal for him. Then, a thought struck him: "Any idea if our post has been delivered, matey?" He was expecting a letter.
Selvis, who had watched Carrow go ahead for a moment before heading for the gunwale, was actually quite surprised at how relatively well he was pawdling his ascent. He had never done this before either, but was holding onto the ratlines for all he was worth by the time Carrow had made it to the fighting top. He hauled himself higher, and higher still, realising that all the upper body work he'd been doing, in all its various forms, was really starting to show its benefits. Even for Selvis, a creature who was in peak physical condition, the ascent was punishing work, and it was with a sigh of relief that he reached his destination, clambering onto the platform and into safety. He smiled at Caden as well, all traces of his earlier distress seemingly absent now. "Whew... well, there's a first time for everything, as they say. I'll get better at that in time, I'm sure. Good to see you, Caden!," he exclaimed, beaming at him.
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 10, 2011 23:22:09 GMT -5
Caden inwardly sighed as Carrow and Selvis suddenly joined him from seemingly out of nowhere. Carrow came through the lubber's hole and Selvis up the futtock shrouds. He gave them friendly smiles, but realized his chances for talking with Elle in private were now dashed. It would have to wait until these fellows cleared out. Carrow wouldn't understand Caden's reasoning because he still didn't know who Elliot was, but Selvis would. It was nice seeing them... just not every waking moment of his day. The albino had to admit he wanted time to himself every so often, and even more so now that he knew Elle's secret.
"Hello you two. Yes Carrow, our post has been delivered." he explained, smiling again as he realized the mouse's predicament. "But you'll honestly need to climb back down if you want it, as the Stewards will NOT be climbing all the way up here just to deliver mail. I don't get anything from home because I have nothing back home, so didn't bother stopping by the Purser's to see if anything had arrived for me. My good for nothing uncle would never write me after all." he admitted, rolling his eyes.
He realized of course that he still needed to keep up the charade of writing to Elle, so quickly added some further words in. "Of course, there is Elle, but I just sent her something a few days ago, so I won't be expecting a reply for at least a month now, if not more." It was a good save he had managed at the last minute. He gave her a knowing if not slightly helpless look.
But then of course, things have ways of working themselves out. Placing his paws on his hips, Caden eyed his friends with a glint in his pink gaze. "Now come on guys. I hope you were heading up to the crosstrees, because you jolly well know we can't have four crewbeasts working the fighting top. We'll get yelled at if we're all up here at once. But if you guys really want the fighting top, then Elliot and I will head on up there." he pointed with a claw to the small horizontal boards above them, still smiling.
"You were probably just stopping off here for a bit. Just make sure to not get in trouble being up here. It is good to see you both all the same." he stated, giving them a nod. "We'll walk the ship together when we come down in about two hours for our patrol. So we'll see you two then." He assured them.
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Ladorak glanced up at the foremast's fighting top where the striplings were gathering. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what they were all doing together. Probably just greeting each other at the start of their shift. Seeing all of them there together reminded him of something though.
Looking up from Willard momentarily, the ermine Captain stopped a Master's Mate as he was heading forward. "Master's Mate. Please let Seajacks Fugate, McNamee, Frenata and Apodemus know that I would like to see them at some point tonight. Preferably when they head back down."
"Sir." the Master's Mate saluted, giving his Captain a nod. "I'll let them know right away." he began moving forward again, towards the foremast. The ermine shifted his attention back down to the weasel Seajack now who was below him.
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"Ahoy aloft!" Caden moved over to the edge of the fighting top to peer down at the Master's Mate who was shouting up at him.
"Aloft ahoy! What do you need sir?" the albino asked.
"The Captain would like to see you four whenever is convenient for you. He mentioned when you come back down. And clear out of there! We can't have four beasts in the fighting top on watch!" he reminded them, and Caden nodded, waving his paw.
"Yes sir! We're working on that!" he called back down, and straightened up to look at his friends. "Wonder what the Captain wants." he mused aloud, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner.
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Post by spender on Feb 10, 2011 23:43:13 GMT -5
"Yes, sir! No, sir!"
Willard just about swallowed his tongue. Captain outta nowhere! Hoooogolly, salute, straighten that back, stop jigging!
Earlier, the abrupt confrontation would have sent Willard into a fit of hero-worshiping hysteria. That was before their stop at Livorno. During the ship's refitting, Willard had carefully put his collection of trinkets back, using the crew's absence to avoid detection. With his entire collection back with its original owners, the weasel had become far more sedate. The twitches and tweaks he got when he was nervous and stressed were nothing as bad as the soul-crushing guilt he'd been carrying around for indulging in his nasty habit.
With all that out of the way, his health seemed to be improving as well. He rarely broke out in sweats anymore, giving his fur and uniform a much-needed dry spell. He was fluffier, sleeker, not as prone to mumbling and stuttering.
"I'm saving it, sir!" the little weasel declared. "Gonna read it to Ags later! Can't, now. I'm on duty! Got to keep watch, sir!"
He briefly held the letter in front of him, showing it off to Ladorak with a grin. Upon lowering his arms, about to tuck the letter away, Willard actually took the time to read the front.
His grin faded.
That was not his mum's pawriting. It was certainly much too fancy to be his sister's. And he was pretty sure they didn't live in anyplace named St. Luke's.
His paw shook a little as he began to tuck it away in a pocket. He glanced up at Ladorak again, for a moment, and immediately felt reassured by the stoat's kindly, wise, compassionate eyes. The moment he looked away, however, that sneaking doubt gripped his heart, and his breath faltered.
He read the front of the envelope again, noting the unfamiliar wax seal. When he tried a second time to put it in his pocket, it slipped out of his paw and drifted across the deck. He darted after it, falling to all four paws to pin it down. He stood again, shaking visibly now, as he used to often do a month ago.
"I... I should get going on my duties," he said, voice rasping. His throat was suddenly very, very dry. All his liquids were heading to his nose and paws. "Need to keep a lookout for t-t-troublemakers... H-have a good eve...evening, Captain..."
Willard saluted again, as Spender passed them both by. The ferret's eyes were glazed over, and a thin line of drool was starting to drip from the side of his mouth.
"All clear larboard side," the ferret mumbled, zombie-like, as he went to patrol aimlessly along the starboard side of the ship.
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 11, 2011 11:42:32 GMT -5
Ladorak's face darkened a bit upon seeing the consternation on Willard's face. The weasel seemed perplexed over something, and the ermine Captain had no wish to simply leave things as they were, not especially after seeing that.
He was briefly interrupted by an aimlessly wandering Spender, a blank, distant look on the ferret's face as he declared the larboard side clear. Since when had the ferret ever become such a diligent... if not a little zoned out, worker?
He scratched underneath his hat with a claw, musing over this before his attention once again shifted back to the departing Willard.
"Just a second Seajack Willard. What's that letter you just got? I got some mail too, you see?" he raised the thick envelope in his paw. "So I know you must have received something from home. Is something wrong? You looked a little perturbed there just now, and good morale is an important thing I take into consideration amongst my crew."
The nervous young stripling had so far not demonstrated things Ladorak looked for in officer material. Sure the fellow followed orders to a T, and was almost freakishly meticulous in how he went about his tasks, but it took more than slavishly following orders. A good Captain candidate needed spunk and independence and above all... personal initiative. That was the thing that Ladorak stressed above all others. Perhaps fortunately for Willard however, it wasn't Ladorak's decision to promote him to Lieutenant... that was reserved for a panel of random Captains based on Willard's port of call and whatever Captain was in the fleet at the time to carry out his examination. It might be Ladorak someday, but he just wasn't sure. One thing he hoped to be able to do was sit on Caden's panel, but of course that had to assume he was still a Captain and hadn't been promoted in the next six years or so.
Regardless, mental well being was extremely important to him, and it wouldn't do to have one of his crew feeling down in the dumps. It was still Willard's choice to tell him or not, as the Captain wasn't going to force the issue, he was merely curious.
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Post by Carrow on Feb 11, 2011 18:49:17 GMT -5
Carrow's tail was up the moment he heard Caden tell him the post had been delivered. He wasn't about to let his hopes get up too high (knowing full well that something could have happened that resulted in a delay), but he knew at the same time that he and Archie had set up a nice system: pretty much as soon as each received the other's letter (or in Carrow's case, as soon as he got the opportunity to put pen to paper and get his thoughts in order), a response was written. Thus the exchange between the two was near-constant. A lot could happen in the four months it normally took for a letter to be sent from wherever the mouse was located back to Muggidrear, or vice-versa. However, he was well aware that the further he went away from home, the more time it took for those letters to arrive - and (as much as he hated to admit it) the more likely it became that he might not receive a reply. Things could happen after all; he found that they always did when a creature was least expecting it.
"Thanks for letting me know, Caden," he said gently, unable to conceal the excitement in his voice. Oh, he hoped quite desperately that somewhere in the Ship's Store there lay something with his name on it. It was thoughts like this that fired him with determination when he felt his lowest - one of the reasons he knew he had to keep going was that so he could keep receiving correspondence from his jill weasel carer. "Yes, I know I shall have to climb back down to retrieve it. I came up here for a bit to check in with you anyways - I know having four creatures on a mast is not exactly the done thing - but I really wanted for us to meet up, even if only for a short while. As for Elle, well, I'm glad you've been keeping her informed - I should know, it's vital to keep in contact with the creatures you care for," he commented, winking again. This reminded him he had to go see Tally, which in turn reminded him that she'd been hanging around with Spender, and that Reisender beast whom he had to admit was a bit of an unknown quantity.
"We know we shouldn't be up here as things are now,," Selis chipped in, "but my reasons for coming up here are quite similar to Carrow's. I was hoping to see you pair - but I have other plans too, see." Caden was pointing up to the crosstrees now, and the longtail was nodding quite eagerly. "It concerns those crosstrees up above. I've never really been presented with an opportunity like this, so I think I'll go up into 'em. I know there are some creatures who dislike being up that high, but I have quite a head for heights - or so I was told back home when I was younger, at least," he quipped, smiling. He'd heard Caden say that the post had been delivered, but didn't think for a second that he might have received something. Briga had her problems (which had been exacerbated now that she found it rather difficult to get around the house) so the last thing he expected her to do was write a letter. Trelio doing so had never crossed his mind - he knew his father was almost permanently busy after all.
As the trio had been speaking, Selvis had been keeping an eye on the approach of the Master's Mate. It was all he could do to stifle a groan. They had been too late and were now due to get in trouble, it seemed. When the creature spoke, however, the weasel breathed a small sigh of relief. It was in chatty tones that he was addressing Caden; nothing too stern or scolding. "Two of us'll be out of here in a moment, sir!," he added after his pine marten companion had responded, before he started to think about what it was they had first been informed about. Ladorak would like to see them? All four of them? This was certainly unusual, but the longtail found himself quite looking forward to it. He glanced at Carrow and noted how the rodent's eyes seemed to shine whenever the Captain was mentioned. He really did enjoy being in the company of that stoat, it seemed, and the longtail could certainly see why. A more compassionate, caring and understanding creature he was yet to meet.
"Yes, that is definitely something to think about!. A private discussion with Ladorak of all creatures? I never thought it'd ever come up, and the fact he wants all four of us there is quite intriguing. I'm a little excited about it, I have to say!," he exclaimed, grinning as his long tail swished back and forth in a manner that indicated he was in a thoughtful mood. "Right, then - that's something to look forward to. For now, though, let's see what I can do about getting a little higher up. You'll feel more comfortable here once Carrow and I have gone elsewhere - four beasts in the fighting top is a little crowded, don't you think?" With this said, he started his ascent, aiming to make the next level in good time. He was feeling energetic again. If Carrow hadn't slept he would have been worn out, but Selvis felt his natural exuberance returning with each inch he gained. This was actually rather fun, he thought. Haven't done anything like this in quite a while!
"I'll catch up with you three whenever I can manage it - as you say, Caden, we'll be on patrol later and that'll be more of an ideal time to talk. I've got a Purser to see and hopefully some post to open! See you all soon!," Carrow exclaimed, wriggling a little to show how much anticipation was running through his body at this stage. The field mouse started back down the lubber's hole. It may have been the easier option, but he was taking no chances whatsoever. He held on tightly with each step he took, not wanting to court injury in any shape or from. He made his descent steadily and very, very carefully. When he was quite sure he wouldn't slip (he was almost touching the deck timbers at this stage - that's how cautious Carrow was being, and this was par for the course with him), he let go and smiled as his paws touched terra firma. Waving up at his companions, he turned and strode off. Now, where was he headed again? Ah yes, orlop deck. Down a few flights of stairs, and then he'd see if anything awaited him.
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Post by spender on Feb 11, 2011 21:15:22 GMT -5
"It's... it's not from home, sir," Willard said. "It's from Muggidrear, but..." He fished it out again and turned it over in his paws. At last he held it up for Ladorak to investigate. "It's from St. Luke. Who is St. Luke, sir? Why did he send me a letter? Why... why isn't it from my family?"
Willard's gaze fell to the deck timbers. His first letter, and it was from some stranger he didn't even know. It had been a year now, he had sent exactly 106.7£ (the other 1.3 going to repair his glasses and a ribbon for the Agamemnon's mast for Christmas) and his mother hadn't even bothered to write to him? He had left a note explaining it all before he'd left, how he didn't want to spare—ahh... maybe that was it.
The weasel brightened a little. Maybe St. Luke was just someone who was sending the letter for his family. So that they didn't have to pay for postage!
Spender, having completed one walk-about the main deck, hoisted himself onto the railing, as if he were going to relieve himself into the ocean. Instead of doing so, he squatted back down, hanging his footpaws over the side, and clung to the nearest line with both paws. He leaned his head on his arm and looked out at the vast, blackened ocean, twinkling as waves distorted the stars' reflections.
Behind him, somewhere, he could hear the rest of the crew. The young pine marten, Reisender, was giggling. Tally was scolding him. Caden and Elliot and Selvis were talking somewhere above him. Dozens of other beasts whose names he could never remember moved about, above and below. The ship was a small town, a close-knit village.
But all he wanted was the darkness and coldness of that empty horizon. He could taste it, the vast horror and agony of the night, the nothingness, the void, the pain and terror! The horizon was his heart. He was was the endless night. He was evil. He knew the taste of it so well, hot in his breath, hard in his gut.
It tasted like cranberries. So did his shirt sleeve. He chewed it a little more, and then wondered if he could make his belly fat make faces, but he didn't feel up to it.
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