Alder

dressing

ration

Nearly the bewitching hour and classically negligent in care of self, Alder trekked to his hammock to restore some semblance of balance. “Seek much but find balance.” Aye, balance, the whisper of his mother’s voice invaded the thoughts that flooded his mind as he slung an aching frame into the swaying cradle of his dreams. And dream he would. This night’s sleeps was fettered by provocative images of the heavenly souls attending this episode in his journey. A kaleidoscope of the bright warm faces of the tailor and her fawn of a companion faded into the faint image of the apothecary’s tempting charge; and then the rejuvenating vision of the skillful lass at the chirurgeon shop. The illuminations began to fade. Alder’s hand grasped out into the night air nearly toppling the carpenter from his perch. Clenching his eyes shut; cognizant only of his struggle to rejoin the path of pleasurable diversion, he stedied himself and breathed deeply and relaxed once more. A peaceful smile punctuated his face as the familiar swirl of colors that preceded the angels of his dream brightened the darkness. There she was, evocative as a woman can be, reaching her strong lithe arms out to him, drawing him in, demanding. He, the willing captive, yeilded his will as even the crevices of his dreams were filled by her needs, her touch, her smell. The bond she had on him was like no woman of flesh and blood. True, she had known another, but he had molded her into the creation that she was and in her carving he was likewise transformed. He was she carpenter and she was his lady. On the morrow, he would relinquish her to another, but this night and in this dream, she was his.

scapegoat.

Truly magical images Captain. What a glorious blossom the two of you have added to your family tree. Blessings to you all, Alder

humor

very

playing

badger

back-seat driving

static

Ohm

friction

interest

toe to toe

cheek to cheek

“’Bout tha unveiling of yer figurehead, Sir…” “Go on, Mister Wenge”, Captain Lasseter encouraged. With much hesitancy, the carpenter proceeded. “With all respect Cap’n, might you share your plans for the morrow?” Captain Lasseter began to reply having only opened his mouth to speak when Alder anxiously interjected “I mean no impertinence Cap’n” he added in haste, “tis only tha figurehead, her drapes, the bindings…”all his concerns flooded the verse that stumbled beyond his lips and his control. “Mister Wenge. . .” Dorian attempted to intercede as the unbalanced conversation droned on “Mister Wenge!” the forceful call to attention was followed by the reassuring tone “Carpenter” as a supportive hand gripped the shoulder of his attendant. “Cap’n” Alder paused to knuckle his forelock “I should like to assist yea in the effort” he spoke in a more confident voice even as he stifled an unrelenting yawn.

Alder had nodded back to Preston in deference to his role and mutual appreciation for the ceremony that lay on the morrow. He was well pleased that health had returned to this stalwart bastion who so ably led the Lucy in the absence of her Captain. The carpenter remained only momentarily to observe the lantern shadowed fray splintered in every direction. Small but determined cadres set about the last spit ‘n polish that was about to beg the Captain’s approval. Alder facilitated the labors of men eager to be led but felt ill at ease with such demands. Preferring to work alongside, the carpenter instilled a degree of levelness that would both garner their fellowship in labor and command an echelon of respect he was unaccustomed to. Upon hearing the voice of Captain Lasseter on the night air, Alder excused himself from their closing efforts and made his way toward its source.

Sahara

Huey, Dewey and Louie

Welcome aboard Count and thank yea fer the drink. May a good all be had by time! Ayyyye, fine spiris there barkeep. - Alder

Wee Willie Winkie

The carpenter had long pondered the placement of the figurehead. Sketches met with the Captain’s approval, though much of the final engineering remained undefined. Until she had tasted the curve of the bow herself, there would be uncertainty. Alder’s own reflections of this goddess vexed and seduced his thoughts. Dawn would not wait her arrival. Dispite the activity of late, he had sequestered himself in planning even as her form had been and was still unseen. Alas, on this eve she must make her union. Lost in contemplation, the carpenter rubbed against the unfamiliar stubble on his chin and was momentarily distracted by the dishabilled image he imagined projecting. He cast his uncomfortable gaze upon the night weary procession of onlookers, but captured neither eye nor head he wished to otherwise turn. Having spent all his time upon this maiden at the expense of his own presentation gave him some pause. How curious that the care of his benefactress had supplanted even his most basic needs. "Yer indeed the vixen," he thought to himself with a wry grin, as he planted a hand upon her wrapped form. Self doubt nagged this otherwise skilled craftsman. Few were the shipwrights who had mounted a figurehead to a vessel of their own design; fewer still had adapted one after the fact. Alder had carefully observed and absorbed every line of her grain. He knew every weakness and also every strength of both the Lucy and her guide to be. Obsession with the deed lit his soul and the lanterns that illuminated his work. Cries rose on the salt air as ropes and pulleys were repositioned with care and precision as the lady was slowly lowered over the side of the Lucy and brought forward. Each block and the accompaning ropes served their purpose to fight gravity as crewmembers strained not under the weight of the load, but of the intricacies of precise placement. Likewise the carpenter dangled in the darkness alongside his charge narrowly escaping the crushing blows of her frame against himself and then the bow. The random gasps that fell over the rail were of little comfort. Alder wiped the beading sweat from his brow as he clung to the web of ropes that surrounded the both of them. The canvas strap cast over one shoulder secured a satchel of custom pieces and favored tools insomuch as one could be prepared for the ambiguity of such a task. Even as a castoff, Alder calculated the length, girth and arrangement of the sheared rods that must have held her fast. Now, these fashioned items emerged one by one as layers of canvas fell section by section. Even the nocturnal drapes of the eventide could not mask all that Alder had wished. Onlookers nodded in unseen approval as greyed glimpses of her carved drape of cerulean blue peeked out in a shade that would taunt the sky for prominence. The forceful rhythm of mallet and determination went unnoticed as first the rope bindings of the gown and then a cascade of auburn locks were revealed by the rays from the swaying latern. The length of her torso and silken flesh; though somewhat obscured by the grappling limbs of her sponsor, brought both proud smiles and envious glances. As his work methodically progressed, significant and elusive element remained. None other had yet to view the majesty of her head and shoulders nor the mystery of what appeared to be an outstretched arm. The mutterings enlivened when, after hours of toil, the carpenter made his final ascent over the railing and was once again safely upon the deck. The greetings of handshaking and slaps on the back assured both skill and place aboard the Lucy. The carpenter trod with satisfaction toward his bearth having for the first time in many a night abandoning his lady's side. The specialized riggings were unceremoniously removed one by one. The mood stilled, anticipation remained. One well braided rope fastened to the one still remaining drape, rose over the bow and fell onto the deck. All awaited her Captain’s touch for ultimate reveal.

The still draped body was precariously poised as rope glided past rope and wood groaned and squealed under the play of the tested fibers. Too and fro the package gently swayed as the rocking ship and gusts of wind fought for autonomy. Truth be told, the carpenter feared less for the creation than that of the Creator’s own who risked much to scale the rigging and thread the tackle with her bindings in preparation for the union of ship and figurehead. The application of engineering and the thrill of the long-awaited arrival, made for entertaining the audience of crew. The hushed buzz of conversation traveled amongst the gathered. Some watched for the mystery of the cloaked artifact, some for the production itself. Chaos ebbed to cadence as brawn overcame burden and the deed was complete. The crate of teetering captive was hoisted aboard the ship upon whose bow she would dwell. Soon, the webbing of rope and apparatus would reposition the figurehead that the carpenter would make this bond permanent.

"At the Chandlery" The crate was deftly packed under the carpenter’s watchful eye. Scaffolding was placed measure for measure to reinforce both center and extremities. A lad spun around tightly packing the fine shavings of excelsior in hollows to brace every facade. Although such delicate treatment appeared understated, the engineering at play was in fact deliberate and executed to assure successful passage. Resting his carving weary joints for the strenuous task ahead, Alder acted as guide to the construction. He rubbed his hands tightly together and kneaded the long bones through his palm. The concoction BriarRose had so artfully prepared seeped deep under his skin and nurtured nerve and sinew. He could almost feel the restorative powers of the healing balm at work. The warmth was unmistakable, the scent distracting. “Aye, careful there!” he barked at the young lad commissioned to make the final adjustments in the packaging of this artifact. One ill placed timber could shear the capstone of his cloaked mistress. And that she was, she had beguiled his time and emblazoned her image upon his soul. The carving steadied. Alder then calmed and reassured the now understandably apprehensive lad to continue, but with some caution. When given the option by his trade, Alder trusted the moldable inexperience of youth to misguided habits that may accompany aged skill. The carpenter pondered the placement of the beauty; the vision of this light bringer with enchantment to calm the gnashing seas and the charm to call a tranquil zephyr to zealous action.