[Ships at Sea] In the Blood
Title: In the Blood
Story/Character: Ships at Sea / Godscalck, Theophrastus
Rating: PG
word count: 1,819
brigits_flame prompt of "those who don't remember the past...".
* * * * *
It was a Captain's prerogative to delegate things like the late night watch to those as couldn't say no to an order, but Godscalck maintained that it was also the Captain's prerogative to change his mind and he'd always hated doing naught through a long sleepless night. Easier, by far, to send a grateful sailor back to his berth and take the hours of the watch himself; it did him no harm in the eyes of the crew and it gave his hands something to do, steady on the wheel and watching the compass with one eye and the stars with the other. Soothing as mother's milk, he thought wryly, and easier on his head than his private stash of liquor. It was a calm night, the moonlight bright on the rippling ocean, steady winds and smooth sailing. He'd left his boots and coat in his cabin and it made him feel lighter and younger, standing barefoot on the boards like the deckhand he'd once been, sleeves rolled back and the wind in his hair and barely another soul stirring.
Except for the boy sized mouse which came creeping up, quiet on equally bare feet, and only stopped halfway up the steps to the quarterdeck when he caught sight of Godscalck. The captain watched the jitter of moonlight reflected off the boy's glass lenses for a moment as the lad tried to decide whether to advance or retreat, then snorted and raised his voice. "Come up, if you're going to. I don't bite. Least ways, not before breakfast."
The boy hesitated a moment more, then climbed the last stairs. He moved easier, now, without the fear of tripping, and stood straighter. He'd be a tall one when he hit his growth, Godscalck guessed, if the size of feet and hands on a boy meant the same as paws on a dog pup. The burn of the sun on the boy's cheeks had given over to peeling, flaked off in blotches that made him look half patchwork even in the dim moonlight. "Would have thought you'd be bunked down for the night," he rumbled as the boy came to stand beside him.
"I couldn't sleep," the boy answered, and then, belatedly, "Sir." It wasn't disrespect, Godscalck decided, so much as a half-grown boy trying to remember manners that never came easy at that age.
"So you came up here? Expecting to find Koen on watch, and here I am instead?"
The boy flashed him a look that he couldn't decipher; the reflection off his lenses made it harder to read him, without the cues of eyes to warn a man. "I... just didn't want to stay below deck, sir."
Godscalck grunted. "Fair enough, lad. We've got the same reason. Though I'd have thought Johim had you run to rags, and then some."
The boy - Theo, Godscalck reminded himself, he was going to have to break the habit of calling the lad "boy" at some point - looked away, his hands twitching in some half realized gesture. "Mister Ruyter's a good master," he muttered. "...and my head's too full to sleep."
Godscalck laughed, startling the boy. "Drilled you until you're doing numbers in your dreams, didn't he?" he said, amused, and laughed again at Theo's mortified grimace. "Oh, don't think I don't know it! I've been shipping with the man since you were in swaddling clothes, m'boy." He nodded down towards the deck, indicating the long stretch of the Eendracht's length. "We started as deck hands together, back in the day. Both came up from nothing, and look at us now." He slid a calloused hand affectionately along the smooth worn wood of the wheel. "He had the makings of a fine sailor, Johim did," he added thoughtfully. "Totally fearless in the rigging, back before the Navigators got ahold of him."
Theo's voice roused him out of the memory, the boy equal parts apologetic and defensive. "Sorry, sir, but... You make it sound like he's not. A sailor, I mean."
Godscalck raised a brow. "Aye, and that's because he's not. He's a Navigator, boy. 'S not the same thing at all."
The boy's brow crumpled. "But..."
The captain waved him quiet with an impatient hand. "Don't take me wrong. I'm not saying he doesn't have the sea in his veins; he'd be as lost on land as any of us. But a sailor," he tapped his fist lightly against his own chest, "is part of his ship." He brought his hand down against the brass center of the wheel, sweeping out along one spoke. "Ship, man, it's all the same. We're all sea-mad, lad, every one of us, but a real sailor is his ship. This," he waved a hand towards all the deck before them, "is me and mine. Every board, every rope, every winch and scrap of sail. And I guarantee you, Johim can't say the same. Oh, he's fond of the old girl, but he'd be just as fond of any other tub that could get him out on the waves. Navigators sail, but they're not sailors."
Theophrastus had his bottom lip between his teeth, mouth pulled tight in disagreement as loud as if he'd shouted it. Godscalck huffed out a breath. "Believe it or not, lad, as you like. You'll see I'm right. Johim's got it in his fool head to make you a Navigator, whether you will or no, because you've got a head for numbers. It'll be up to you to decide if that's what you really want. Here..." He stepped to the side and reached out, grabbing the boy's arm and tugging him into place. The boy stumbled and lashed out to steady himself, then flinched when he realized he'd done so on the wheel. Godscalck caught his hands before Theo could yank them back, pressing the boy's palms to the wood. "Go on. It's quiet as glass tonight; you'll do no harm."
It took a few long minutes for the boy to be anything but a tense plank between his hands, but gradually the lad eased into it, hands curling around the wheel of their own volition as he steadied himself. Godscalck gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "There you go," he said, approving. "Feel it, can't you? It's like holding her heartbeat in your hands."
Theo hesitated, then nodded slightly, face intent as he gripped the wheel. Godscalck flicked the boy's knuckles. "Ease up, there. A ship's a lady, boy, not a dock whore looking to run off with your purse. Not," he added dryly, "that a lad your age knows much about that." He kicked the boy's feet into a better stance, corrected his grip, and then stepped back with a nod. "There. You're already better at it than Johim ever was. I'll give the wheel to one of the deck swabs before I give it over to him."
He couldn't see the boy's face, but he could lay odds on the boy's lip taking another chewing. "But... He tells you where to go."
"Aye," Godscalck agreed, "and that's why he's not here. He's never more than half on the deck. His mind's out there," he waved towards the night black horizon to all sides of them, "always thinking about what's next, what's over there, and not what's here right now."
He nudged the boy aside and Theo gave the wheel back to him readily enough, skipping back a step. "Ships wouldn't sail without Navigators," the boy noted.
"I never said they weren't important," Godscalck grunted. "Ships wouldn't sail, caravans wouldn't run... Without the Guild we'd none of us have a place to call home or somewhere to raise families. Mayhap they're the most important things on God's earth, or at least they'd like us to think so. It doesn't change the fact they're not sailors, and most of the time they're more than half mad as bat dung."
The boy made a sound in his throat, half thoughtful. "Racing the sun," he said.
Godscalck nodded. "Yes. And that's why the world needs sailors, lad. Navigators know the 'where' but it's sailors as know the 'how'." He glanced sidelong at the boy's pensive face and age dimmed memory suggested the face of another boy, frowning out over the waves as he tried to decide. "You could be a good sailor, if you wanted."
Theo said nothing, frowning, and Godscalck, after a moment, changed the subject. "You've worn those before," he noted, nodding towards the boy's lenses.
The boy ducked his head, embarrassed. "Yes," he admitted. He took a breath, shoulders hunched, but went on without prompting. "Trade apprentices can't afford them."
Godscalck nodded in understanding. "So when you left home you left them behind. Better to be half blind then advertise a landed name on the docks."
"Not if you want to be taken on as a deck hand," the boy replied, cheekily. Godscalck grinned.
"Just so. And here you are." A gust of wind blew past them for a moment, turning the boy's mop of pale hair into a ruffled brush, and Godscalck broke off long enough to keep an eye on the sails until the wind steadied again. "You want to be a sailor, boy, then I'll speak to Johim. You've a good head and more education than most. You could be standing where I am, some day, if you like the feel of it."
"I'll think about it," Theo replied, in a tone that said clear as glass that he probably wouldn't. When he moved away Godscalck let him, but he paused at the head of the stairs to look back. "Captain..." He hesitated, then shrugged, thin shoulders rising helplessly. "There's a Storm forming twelve degrees southwest, heading northeast. Not too big, I think."
Godscalck felt his brows rise. "You 'think'? Not something Johim told you, then."
"No, sir," the boy said, sober. "I can just feel it." He turned and was gone, then, half sliding down the rails to land with a thump on the deck, steps quick and sure as he walked away.
Godscalck watched him go and shook his head. "Mad as a Storm," he conceded regretfully. "Waste, that." He tapped a finger against the wheel, frowning out across the waves. "Or not, by the time we're back to port." The thought cheered him, because he'd seen and heard of fresh-titled young Navigators in their first Storms, crazed and terrified all at once, and both Johim and now Theophrastus after him were anything but. The boy might be the best shakeup the Guild had had since Johim had been a thorn in their side over a decade previous. It made Godscalck smile and he hummed a tune to himself, off key and careless of it in the quiet of the night, as he nudged the Eendracht's nose away from the storm that was brewing somewhere beyond sight off the starboard side.
* * * * *
(To everyone who asked what the creature in the Storm was in the last part, it's a tossup between an abnormally giant Mosasaur or one of the really large Liopleurodons, which puts the Storm of What-was as a timeslip either to the late Cretaceous or late Jurassic, depending.)
Story/Character: Ships at Sea / Godscalck, Theophrastus
Rating: PG
word count: 1,819
brigits_flame prompt of "those who don't remember the past...".
* * * * *
It was a Captain's prerogative to delegate things like the late night watch to those as couldn't say no to an order, but Godscalck maintained that it was also the Captain's prerogative to change his mind and he'd always hated doing naught through a long sleepless night. Easier, by far, to send a grateful sailor back to his berth and take the hours of the watch himself; it did him no harm in the eyes of the crew and it gave his hands something to do, steady on the wheel and watching the compass with one eye and the stars with the other. Soothing as mother's milk, he thought wryly, and easier on his head than his private stash of liquor. It was a calm night, the moonlight bright on the rippling ocean, steady winds and smooth sailing. He'd left his boots and coat in his cabin and it made him feel lighter and younger, standing barefoot on the boards like the deckhand he'd once been, sleeves rolled back and the wind in his hair and barely another soul stirring.
Except for the boy sized mouse which came creeping up, quiet on equally bare feet, and only stopped halfway up the steps to the quarterdeck when he caught sight of Godscalck. The captain watched the jitter of moonlight reflected off the boy's glass lenses for a moment as the lad tried to decide whether to advance or retreat, then snorted and raised his voice. "Come up, if you're going to. I don't bite. Least ways, not before breakfast."
The boy hesitated a moment more, then climbed the last stairs. He moved easier, now, without the fear of tripping, and stood straighter. He'd be a tall one when he hit his growth, Godscalck guessed, if the size of feet and hands on a boy meant the same as paws on a dog pup. The burn of the sun on the boy's cheeks had given over to peeling, flaked off in blotches that made him look half patchwork even in the dim moonlight. "Would have thought you'd be bunked down for the night," he rumbled as the boy came to stand beside him.
"I couldn't sleep," the boy answered, and then, belatedly, "Sir." It wasn't disrespect, Godscalck decided, so much as a half-grown boy trying to remember manners that never came easy at that age.
"So you came up here? Expecting to find Koen on watch, and here I am instead?"
The boy flashed him a look that he couldn't decipher; the reflection off his lenses made it harder to read him, without the cues of eyes to warn a man. "I... just didn't want to stay below deck, sir."
Godscalck grunted. "Fair enough, lad. We've got the same reason. Though I'd have thought Johim had you run to rags, and then some."
The boy - Theo, Godscalck reminded himself, he was going to have to break the habit of calling the lad "boy" at some point - looked away, his hands twitching in some half realized gesture. "Mister Ruyter's a good master," he muttered. "...and my head's too full to sleep."
Godscalck laughed, startling the boy. "Drilled you until you're doing numbers in your dreams, didn't he?" he said, amused, and laughed again at Theo's mortified grimace. "Oh, don't think I don't know it! I've been shipping with the man since you were in swaddling clothes, m'boy." He nodded down towards the deck, indicating the long stretch of the Eendracht's length. "We started as deck hands together, back in the day. Both came up from nothing, and look at us now." He slid a calloused hand affectionately along the smooth worn wood of the wheel. "He had the makings of a fine sailor, Johim did," he added thoughtfully. "Totally fearless in the rigging, back before the Navigators got ahold of him."
Theo's voice roused him out of the memory, the boy equal parts apologetic and defensive. "Sorry, sir, but... You make it sound like he's not. A sailor, I mean."
Godscalck raised a brow. "Aye, and that's because he's not. He's a Navigator, boy. 'S not the same thing at all."
The boy's brow crumpled. "But..."
The captain waved him quiet with an impatient hand. "Don't take me wrong. I'm not saying he doesn't have the sea in his veins; he'd be as lost on land as any of us. But a sailor," he tapped his fist lightly against his own chest, "is part of his ship." He brought his hand down against the brass center of the wheel, sweeping out along one spoke. "Ship, man, it's all the same. We're all sea-mad, lad, every one of us, but a real sailor is his ship. This," he waved a hand towards all the deck before them, "is me and mine. Every board, every rope, every winch and scrap of sail. And I guarantee you, Johim can't say the same. Oh, he's fond of the old girl, but he'd be just as fond of any other tub that could get him out on the waves. Navigators sail, but they're not sailors."
Theophrastus had his bottom lip between his teeth, mouth pulled tight in disagreement as loud as if he'd shouted it. Godscalck huffed out a breath. "Believe it or not, lad, as you like. You'll see I'm right. Johim's got it in his fool head to make you a Navigator, whether you will or no, because you've got a head for numbers. It'll be up to you to decide if that's what you really want. Here..." He stepped to the side and reached out, grabbing the boy's arm and tugging him into place. The boy stumbled and lashed out to steady himself, then flinched when he realized he'd done so on the wheel. Godscalck caught his hands before Theo could yank them back, pressing the boy's palms to the wood. "Go on. It's quiet as glass tonight; you'll do no harm."
It took a few long minutes for the boy to be anything but a tense plank between his hands, but gradually the lad eased into it, hands curling around the wheel of their own volition as he steadied himself. Godscalck gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "There you go," he said, approving. "Feel it, can't you? It's like holding her heartbeat in your hands."
Theo hesitated, then nodded slightly, face intent as he gripped the wheel. Godscalck flicked the boy's knuckles. "Ease up, there. A ship's a lady, boy, not a dock whore looking to run off with your purse. Not," he added dryly, "that a lad your age knows much about that." He kicked the boy's feet into a better stance, corrected his grip, and then stepped back with a nod. "There. You're already better at it than Johim ever was. I'll give the wheel to one of the deck swabs before I give it over to him."
He couldn't see the boy's face, but he could lay odds on the boy's lip taking another chewing. "But... He tells you where to go."
"Aye," Godscalck agreed, "and that's why he's not here. He's never more than half on the deck. His mind's out there," he waved towards the night black horizon to all sides of them, "always thinking about what's next, what's over there, and not what's here right now."
He nudged the boy aside and Theo gave the wheel back to him readily enough, skipping back a step. "Ships wouldn't sail without Navigators," the boy noted.
"I never said they weren't important," Godscalck grunted. "Ships wouldn't sail, caravans wouldn't run... Without the Guild we'd none of us have a place to call home or somewhere to raise families. Mayhap they're the most important things on God's earth, or at least they'd like us to think so. It doesn't change the fact they're not sailors, and most of the time they're more than half mad as bat dung."
The boy made a sound in his throat, half thoughtful. "Racing the sun," he said.
Godscalck nodded. "Yes. And that's why the world needs sailors, lad. Navigators know the 'where' but it's sailors as know the 'how'." He glanced sidelong at the boy's pensive face and age dimmed memory suggested the face of another boy, frowning out over the waves as he tried to decide. "You could be a good sailor, if you wanted."
Theo said nothing, frowning, and Godscalck, after a moment, changed the subject. "You've worn those before," he noted, nodding towards the boy's lenses.
The boy ducked his head, embarrassed. "Yes," he admitted. He took a breath, shoulders hunched, but went on without prompting. "Trade apprentices can't afford them."
Godscalck nodded in understanding. "So when you left home you left them behind. Better to be half blind then advertise a landed name on the docks."
"Not if you want to be taken on as a deck hand," the boy replied, cheekily. Godscalck grinned.
"Just so. And here you are." A gust of wind blew past them for a moment, turning the boy's mop of pale hair into a ruffled brush, and Godscalck broke off long enough to keep an eye on the sails until the wind steadied again. "You want to be a sailor, boy, then I'll speak to Johim. You've a good head and more education than most. You could be standing where I am, some day, if you like the feel of it."
"I'll think about it," Theo replied, in a tone that said clear as glass that he probably wouldn't. When he moved away Godscalck let him, but he paused at the head of the stairs to look back. "Captain..." He hesitated, then shrugged, thin shoulders rising helplessly. "There's a Storm forming twelve degrees southwest, heading northeast. Not too big, I think."
Godscalck felt his brows rise. "You 'think'? Not something Johim told you, then."
"No, sir," the boy said, sober. "I can just feel it." He turned and was gone, then, half sliding down the rails to land with a thump on the deck, steps quick and sure as he walked away.
Godscalck watched him go and shook his head. "Mad as a Storm," he conceded regretfully. "Waste, that." He tapped a finger against the wheel, frowning out across the waves. "Or not, by the time we're back to port." The thought cheered him, because he'd seen and heard of fresh-titled young Navigators in their first Storms, crazed and terrified all at once, and both Johim and now Theophrastus after him were anything but. The boy might be the best shakeup the Guild had had since Johim had been a thorn in their side over a decade previous. It made Godscalck smile and he hummed a tune to himself, off key and careless of it in the quiet of the night, as he nudged the Eendracht's nose away from the storm that was brewing somewhere beyond sight off the starboard side.
* * * * *
(To everyone who asked what the creature in the Storm was in the last part, it's a tossup between an abnormally giant Mosasaur or one of the really large Liopleurodons, which puts the Storm of What-was as a timeslip either to the late Cretaceous or late Jurassic, depending.)
