Prologue
I do pronounce "Prologue" as prolluh-gyew.
***
Prologue
***
the world is my oyster but i am the pearl.
Those are the words carved into the hull of the most beautiful sailing ship in the world. Her name, Bittersweet, is taken from a poem:
The abandoned ship, its rigging torn,
Bereft of crew, alone, forlorn,
No delta, dam or dock awaits,
Not fort, nor port, nor city gates.
It floats, unchained, but still not free
Adrift on a bittersweet sea.
The hull of the ship was bleached by the sun until silvery-blue and stained by the sea until silvery-blue-green. The masts, painted gold, reflect brightly on the pearly white silk of the sails and the pale boards of the deck. The figurehead is a mermaid, the scales of her tail set with mother-of-pearl and the creamy glow of her skin unsullied by the centuries. She holds a spear of bronze, forever locked in a pose of aggression with her golden hair frozen in mid-stream.
But this majestic vessel was not always so sweet; many years ago she was much more bitter.
***
A shipwright, famous for his skill, speaks with the captain of his beautiful new sailing ship:
"She is ready, sir. But you will not make it with the provisions you have on board..."
"I will have to make it. I can’t afford any more."
The shipwright nodded. No sane businessman would point out the fact that extra provisions could have easily been afforded if the captain had chosen a less expensive ship. After all, this one was already built and he had not yet been paid...
"Here you are, my good man. Two hundred pounds of gold for your ship. I say," -- the captain surveyed the vessel, impressed -- "You've done a marvelous job! I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful ship."
Two hundred pounds. It was a measly sum for such an incredible ship. True, they had agreed on two hundred pounds, but that was before the ship was built. Before he had carved the face of the mermaid and she had demanded that he create a ship worthy of her…
"Thank you, sir."
Doubtless the old man wouldn't care that even the masts were polished, that the figurehead was inlaid with mother-of-pearl and white enamel, that the railings were carved with flowers, that the portholes were covered. With glass, too! Glass! It would have been cheaper to cover them with silver!
"Will she do, sir?"
"Do?! Of course she'll do!”
"Thank you, sir. What'll her name be?
The captain thought.
"What about Adventure?"
"It needs to be feminine, sir."
"Ventura, then?"
The mermaid smiled.
***
A young captain writes in the ship's log of the Ventura at the end of another day:
Day 32, evening: I have founde that the wheel will note be tournd and thus the ship will note be steerd. We are running out of prouvissiones quickily but have much left and if ounly the wind will blouw us in the righte directioune we may yet maike it. Some of the men seeme ille and are couighing much.
***
The Ventura is already over one hundred years old. Her polished masts still gleam; the carved rails are still blooming. The glass in the portholes has neither run nor broken. She seems untouched by time...
***
Prologue
***
the world is my oyster but i am the pearl.
Those are the words carved into the hull of the most beautiful sailing ship in the world. Her name, Bittersweet, is taken from a poem:
The abandoned ship, its rigging torn,
Bereft of crew, alone, forlorn,
No delta, dam or dock awaits,
Not fort, nor port, nor city gates.
It floats, unchained, but still not free
Adrift on a bittersweet sea.
The hull of the ship was bleached by the sun until silvery-blue and stained by the sea until silvery-blue-green. The masts, painted gold, reflect brightly on the pearly white silk of the sails and the pale boards of the deck. The figurehead is a mermaid, the scales of her tail set with mother-of-pearl and the creamy glow of her skin unsullied by the centuries. She holds a spear of bronze, forever locked in a pose of aggression with her golden hair frozen in mid-stream.
But this majestic vessel was not always so sweet; many years ago she was much more bitter.
***
A shipwright, famous for his skill, speaks with the captain of his beautiful new sailing ship:
"She is ready, sir. But you will not make it with the provisions you have on board..."
"I will have to make it. I can’t afford any more."
The shipwright nodded. No sane businessman would point out the fact that extra provisions could have easily been afforded if the captain had chosen a less expensive ship. After all, this one was already built and he had not yet been paid...
"Here you are, my good man. Two hundred pounds of gold for your ship. I say," -- the captain surveyed the vessel, impressed -- "You've done a marvelous job! I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful ship."
Two hundred pounds. It was a measly sum for such an incredible ship. True, they had agreed on two hundred pounds, but that was before the ship was built. Before he had carved the face of the mermaid and she had demanded that he create a ship worthy of her…
"Thank you, sir."
Doubtless the old man wouldn't care that even the masts were polished, that the figurehead was inlaid with mother-of-pearl and white enamel, that the railings were carved with flowers, that the portholes were covered. With glass, too! Glass! It would have been cheaper to cover them with silver!
"Will she do, sir?"
"Do?! Of course she'll do!”
"Thank you, sir. What'll her name be?
The captain thought.
"What about Adventure?"
"It needs to be feminine, sir."
"Ventura, then?"
The mermaid smiled.
***
A young captain writes in the ship's log of the Ventura at the end of another day:
Day 32, evening: I have founde that the wheel will note be tournd and thus the ship will note be steerd. We are running out of prouvissiones quickily but have much left and if ounly the wind will blouw us in the righte directioune we may yet maike it. Some of the men seeme ille and are couighing much.
***
The Ventura is already over one hundred years old. Her polished masts still gleam; the carved rails are still blooming. The glass in the portholes has neither run nor broken. She seems untouched by time...