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Alder

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  1. YouTube www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao "Validation"
  2. Alder raised his hand to recapture the boy’s attention, but the lad had turned too soon and missed the gesture. The carpenter had not intended to simply dismiss the lad though with the work left to consider, it was just as well. The young man’s wisdom echoed, “don’t let a splinter fester… it’ll be yer undoing…” The advice was certain, if not ironic coming from a lad whose position as powder monkey presented more palpable potential for harm. Aboard the Heron, Liam’s role was considered necessary though his life . . . expendable. His new Captain held his crew in higher regard though the job itself of transport of explosives chemicals; the care of heavy projectiles stored against shifting seas, the violent discharges of heavy caliber cannon was no respecter of any man’s survival. Any of the requisite tasks could injure, maim or worse. Alder made conscious note to himself to check the condition in the ship’s magazine. Life at sea was indeed tenuous, held in so precarious a balance that even a sliver of wood coated with the vector of disease could lay a man low and yet, what tremendous acts of God were oft been necessary to return a monster to their creator. The carpenter removed a notebook from the pocket of his slops but thought better of it in the fading light, choosing instead to make his way to his quarters to exploit the remnants of the day by lantern. In passing, Mister Wenge exchanged a cordial an approving nod to Mister Van Baerle who likewise seemed to be evaluating the general condition of the Lucy while on his watch. Such independent motivation was just what Alder was seeking in the guise of what would be carpenter’s mate. In the brief time since he joined the Lucy from the Maastricht, he had found John to be a solid, hard working lad, observant and eager to take on responsibility. Notwithstanding this insight, Alder had little time to know the inner workings of John’s character. The carpenter recalled the rapport that was cultivated while working with Mister Thatcher on the figurehead. Where the vitality of the Lucy was concerned, Alder was eager for collaboration.
  3. Alder turned, his view angled down toward the source of this faint, though sincere voice of concern. “Aye, Lad, aye” the carpenter answered now selfconscious of the attention to his offended palm. Alder recalled the lad, but held no bond save knowing of him as a lingering puzzlement; a view shared by the crew of the Heron. You see, the lad seemed intuitive in a queer sort of way; a gift that made some uncomfortable. There was with him a knowing beyond his years, hell, beyond the years of his seniors in some cases. Liam had a knack of being aware of things unspoken; so it was no surprise he read Alders body language and came to inquire. The carpenter smiled silently at the boy awaiting more; for with this one there always was more. A joke, a wry and clever remark would surely follow. Self preservation was not lost on Liam. He understood his creativity and insight set him apart. He was a keen study of persons and personalities; an observer, not an anomaly. Still, since the then Heron's carpenter reserved his time for none, the lad was no exception, needed or no. This new crew had changed the craftsman, transformed the distant soul to one who worked well with others; finding both utility and companionship in their presence. Nevertheless, Alder required more fodder to foster kinship.
  4. The last vestiges of daylight tapped the glinting star of the Lucy’s figurehead in the rays of a setting sun. Contemplating the work that lay ahead for both those to set out for the Navarra and those to remain, Alder slid his hand along the rail only to recoil upon discovering jagged edge in need of tending. His face curled with a capricious smirk; appreciating how the deliberate nip of his palm articulated the Lucy’s demand for his attentions. Alder tenderly patted her injury, “Soon enough my sweet gyrl, soon enough” he promised silently, looking deep into her sails that replied in a tranquil sway of canvas. The undulation directed seductive scents of spice and smoke from the port to his face, teasing all his senses. Alder gazed toward civilization and the scattering of lanterns that grew brighter even as the earth’s own waned. As the ship’s bell pealed, Mister Wenge offered no more measure to such beguilements; plans must be made to return to her maintenance and inventory necessary supplies while the anchor held them.
  5. Happy Natal day my Captain! May yea enjoy smooth sailin 'n 'ery seas 'n welcome 'n each port 'o call! Alder
  6. Though it brought him some measure of enjoyment to see Jenny and his coat both in good order, Alder was anxious that the lass be returned to a place of more safekeeping and less virility. As he turned to close his sea chest, he reflected upon their brief conversation and the gentle lilt of her voice. Was his apprehension truly for her virtue or merely a poor attempt to supplant long forfeited emotions? The carpenters thumb played across the folded parchment that he neglected to return likewise to safekeeping. He brushed off his notions and his coat having set it right to dry. He tucked the note in his sash to address afterward and lay his hand across the warp and waft of the well tailored garment. He allowed his vision to blurred into the matte moray and he beheld the apparition of another lass, wrapped within another time, another place. She said coyly that she had “found” his cloak, or had she. He didn’t recall having misplaced it. She took such pleasure in draping it over her slender shoulders, inhaling the scent of him still resident in the weave. He remembered how ridiculous she seemed as she took in a last memorable breathe of the thing before she handed it back. How he had squandered that and so many other moments. A brusque wave unsettled him, dashing his shoulder into a beam and his thoughts from his indulgent reverie back into the present. This storm would not so easily abate. The carpenter restored his composure, but remained anxious for word from Captain Lasseter as he rubbed his shoulder and glared back at the rib of the Lucy which seemed likewise to be reminding him of his errant attentions. Alder returned the note with its bits of crumbled sealing wax back to storage. He more earnestly began considering the selection of a carpenter’s mate; even as he rounded his shoulder to disperse the ache.
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