|
The Weary Sailor (still unfinished) |
|
|
|
|
|
|
The air was filled with the scent of salt and sand, a soft breeze flowing over the ocean, flowing over the waves. The careful sway of the boat leaned to and fro, gliding with the waves slapping against and guiding along. There was little noise minus the occasional footstep on the deck, the bird calling overhead. The sun’s rays were beating down heavily against the ship, the light reflecting and adding warmth to the early morning glow. Land was no where in sight; the sea engulfed the surroundings, causing the tired shipmates to lie hung over the railing, anxiously waiting for anything to appear on the horizon, anything to give them hope of coming home.
There was one man, beneath the deck. He was writing intensively, bent over himself on his cot. He had a roll of paper stretched out before him, his old quill pen furiously scribbling across the page, dabbing back into the bottle of ink every few words. The boat made a sudden movement, causing a scratch across the page. Furious with himself, he closed up the bottle, and put away his quill. Getting up, he checked the candle beside the cot, seeing if it was nearly out. The tall white tower of wax was only inches away from being completely burnt out. The man bent over, rolled up his scroll, and placed it underneath the plate holding the candle. He blew out the candle, and walked carefully to the stairs, feeling each stair before he opened the door above him to the deck.
The sun blinded him, causing him to squint his eyes and cover the rays with his arm. He looked around the deck – not that many men were out at this time in the morning, for it was just sunrise. Very soon everyone would begin to get up, and the night crew, as few as there were, would go underneath for their rest. He limped over to the rail, draping his arms over the side, staring off into the watery abyss. He sighed heavily, gazing longingly towards the rising sun.
The wind blew from the opposite direction, whipping his long, brown-grey hair around him, his hands rising to shield himself from any more. He took a string from around his wrist and tied it around his hair, the knot falling to around shoulder-height. The rest of his hair fell a few inches away, lying casually against his back once the wind had ceased. There were grey spots on his sideburns, parts of his trimmed beard turning grey as well. It had been a couple of years since he had been home, and he had longed for his family. He turned around, hearing footsteps quickly approach him.
“Just got up, did ye? I figured a man like yerself would have gotten up a bit later,” the redhead grinned as he approached him, shaking hands with the man.
“I had wanted to see the sunrise this very morning. It was quite picturesque,” he replied sternly, his eyes level with the redhead’s.
“Oh, Edmund, yer such a bore. Why do ye always have to be so,” the redhead paused.
“Proper? It’s in my nature. You, August, and the rest of you Scots are always trying to rile the rest of us up for a fight. Why do you even bother? You know you won’t get anywhere,” Edmund stated bluntly, looking August straight in the eye.
“Now yer gettin’ cocky. I would watch that mouth-er yers, it looks like ye might be a-lookin’ for a beatin’.”
“Oh, hello, captain. What brings you out this bright morning?” Edmund looked past August, causing the Scotsman to whip around in fright, only to find an empty deck behind him.
“Now what was that fer?” August asked as he whipped back around to see a grinning Edmund.
“Nothing. Nothing whatsoever,” he retorted, sarcasm barely reaching his tone. Edmund walked past an awe-struck August, still smiling as he put his hands behind his back, listening to the shipmen’s footsteps as they began to emerge onto the deck behind him. He had made it all the way to the pier when there was a booming voice behind him.
“Al-right-ee men! Ready the sails! Let us sail these here seas and let fate have it that we see our homeland today!” the captain called across the ship, waking up any men that had previously been groggy.
Edmund whipped around, eyeballing the men who had begun to quicken their pace on the ship. He looked up at the captain, watching him gaze down at the men, finally meeting Edmund’s eyes after a moment. Edmund glared, narrowing his eyes a little. He detested the captain, but yet still admired him for his courage and leadership. The two of them had gone back since they were both boys, having grown up being neighbors. They had gone on to lead separate lifestyles; Edmund, of course, hating to sail for so long ended up doing his best to stay home and pursue his writing career while his old comrade had gone on to sail the seas and explore America. It was sheer coincidence that Edmund’s boss had wanted Edmund to go to America and do some work there for several months at the same time his old friend was leaving for the States as well.
Edmund bowed slightly, taking long strides on his way up to the upper deck. He climbed the companionway, still looking downwards. He walked over to the other side of the captain, resting his stomach against the railing, his hands still behind his back. “Good morning, Thaddeus. Very up and prompt as usual, I see. Haven’t changed a bit,” he noted.
“Aye, this much is true. You should know for yourself that I was always the man to be firmly on a schedule. If my calculations are correct, we should reach the isle by late tonight, if not early tomorrow,” Thaddeus said, pressing his palms against the rails, gripping them tightly so that his broad knuckles turned white.
Edmund, in turn, looked at his own hands. They seemed to be smaller in size both in length and in width as he compared his own to Thaddeus’s. Then again, he had taken the course of a man who became a writer, and artist, rather than a working man. True, he still provided his home’s income, but yet it was not a truly labored job. He was still able to be home and care for his kin, although for the past few months he had been on the other side of the world. “Would you like me to see to it that everyone stays up tonight?” he pondered aloud.
“Yes, that would be good. Now if you don’t mind, I will be back to my quarters. Contact me if anything goes awry,” Thaddeus nodded, turning back. Edmund watched him enter his cabin, eyeballing the captain. His skin had reddened and darkened even moreso in many areas, and there were very dark circles underneath his eyes. The lines on his face had grown even more prominent, and his hair was almost all white, only some darker hairs left. It was strange for Edmund to remember that the two men were nearly the same age, although the captain looked a great deal older than he. He turned back around, gazing out at the men readying the ship for the sharp winds up ahead. They predicted to get stronger winds that day, so anyone who knew about sailing was prepared to do anything they could to try to gather those winds to use them to their advantage. They were on their last leg of their journey home, and Edmund believed that this would be the longest.
His mind began to wander, reaching out into the depths of his imagination, his knowledge, in order to seek answers. He wanted to know if there was anything worthwhile that would come of this petrifying trip across the sea besides a better income and a chance to see the States. Most of all, especially at this point, he longed for home. He longed for the rolling hills, the crisp smell of a wood stove, the luster of his very own bed. There were dark clouds off in the distance as he came back to reality, giving evidence of perhaps an afternoon storm. It was late summer, meaning that the storms would be even more dangerous than they were on the trip previously. The rains would be heavier, the thunder louder. He, as well as the rest of his shipmates, hoped to get as far as they could before the storm struck, this way if they were thrown off course, hopefully they would at least land closer to home rather than farther out at sea.
A large hand rested on Edmund’s shoulder, weighing it down. “Gettin’ a tan, are ye?” August laughed, his deep voice echoing. The sound of his voice seemed to come from his stomach, giving Edmund the creeps.
“Oh no, not at all. As a matter of fact, I was admiring the storm approaching,” he pointed left. “It appears as though it’s coming from the North. I would figure it’d come for us if we don’t hurry.”
“Don’ta worry, lad. We’ve got it all under control,” August tried being cheerful.
“Don’t start that crap with me. I know as well as you do that that storm’s headed right for us and we’re in deep danger. Put that big mouth of yours to work and make sure everyone knows about it, will you? I can’t have it sneaking up on any of the men by surprise, got it?” he looked August in the eye, a hint of caution edging into his voice.
“Yessir. Where’s the cap’n?”
“Inside. He doesn’t look to be in tip-top shape. I’ll address him personally,” Edmund said, turning towards the captain’s cabin, watching August charge down the companionway, to the lower deck. There he bellowed to the rest of the crew about the storm, causing a ruckus on the lower deck. Edmund smiled, knowing that August was in for it and he’d have to deal with the riots himself. He opened the door cautiously, lightly knocking on it as it moved. “Hello?” he called.
“Yes, Edmund. I’m over here,” the soft voice of Thaddeus called. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a storm headed for us. It’s coming from the North. We’re going to do as much as we can to try to get away from it, but I highly doubt that’s possible,” Edmund briefed him, standing fully erect.
“Of course there’s a storm coming. There’s always a bloody storm on the way, no matter how great of a day it may look like. Are the men warned?” Edmund could barely make out his face in the dim light.
“Yessir, I just told August to pass it on,” he smiled.
Thaddeus grinned in return, chuckling quietly as well. “Good to see you’ve finally found a job for him.” Thaddeus looked up at Edmund, his ice blue eyes clearly visible in the light. Edmund backed up a little. “What’s wrong with you? You seem on edge,” the captain noted.
“Nothing, I am just anticipating the weather, and I don’t want to be caught off guard with it coming and all. What I mean is, is that I don’t want to forget about it,” Edmund corrected himself.
“Good for you. Now get back out there,” Thaddeus glared, obviously dissatisfied with Edmund’s existence in his own room. He turned and left quickly, not looking behind him at the captain.
 Thee Alchemyst · Sun Apr 11, 2010 @ 12:47am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
