Vemuz: The captain stops short in his walk to his cabin. He turns around slowly.
"Yer a hard bargainer, ain't ya? Tell you what, you look like ye're a perilous fellow, an' well worth a little extra pay. Not t'mention ya saved my life. Y'll get 25 a month, an' I'm bein quite generous here. But," he says, his voice hardening, the voice of a man not lightly to be trifled with, "From now till the end of the voyage,
I am your Captain. You will respect my authority, even if this is a lowly merchantman. Do you understand? I'm sure I won't regret it...nor will you."
He turns to all of you.
"I'll see ye all tomorrow, then. Bright an' early, time 'n the tide wait for no one, as they say," he says cheerfully.
The CALYPSO'S GRACE is, as promised, already making ready to cast off as you arrive at the ship, bearing your sea chests. Captain McCrenshaw is looking grim this morning, though it is a bright and cheerful morning, but he welcomes you warmly.
"Welcome aboard," he shouts over the rail with an attempt at a smile. "Ye're almost too late."
Once you are aboard, the final dockline is cast off, and the crew arrays themselves at the headsail halyards.
The chanteyman, who Nicodemus recognizes as Ben Stern, takes his place at the head of the line of sailors.
"A-round the corner we will go!" he calls.
"Round the corner Sally!" the seamen answer, and give a long pull on the halyards. The ship's four jibsails climb a quarter of the way up their stays.
"A-round Cape Wild we all must go!" the chanteyman shouts.
"Round the Corner Sally!" the sails climb higher on their stays.
"I-f I had a little gal in town!"
"Round the Corner Sally!"
"I would tow her off to Sendun!"
"Round the Corner Sally!"
After a long time, the four jibsails complete their climb up the stays. A light morning breeze catches them and hundreds of yards of canvas fill and billow outwards with a crack like a cannonade.
The sweating sailors take a moment of rest, then at Mr. Lang's cry, spring to their stations.
The force of the wind on the headsails slowly blows the ship's bow clear of the dock. As soon as the long bowsprit clears the wharf, Captain McCrenshaw takes a brief look at the surroundings, taking note of the wind direction and strength, and the swarming boats all around. He cups his hands and shouts forward to Mr. Lang:
"Mr. Lang! Set all sail! Raise the studdingsails!"
Mr. Lang, pacing forward on the fo'c'sle near the bows, relays the order to the men aloft.
"Set all sail, aye! Raise the studdingsails, aye!"
The men, looking like spiders in webs of rope and sails, cast loose the tyers on the furled sails and scramble to extend the studdingsail yards on either side of the working sails.
Under a cloud of canvas - truly an awe-inspiring sight - CALYPSO'S GRACE begins to slowly move forward in the light morning air.
The fresh salt breeze wafts in, sluicing the inevitable stench of an overcrowded port city out of your nostrils.
You have passed the point of no turning back. Shore worries are behind you, and only the wide sea ahead. Every tar on board mouths a prayer to Calypso, and a plea to Oceanus.
"Oceanus, thy sea is so great and my ship so small...spare me thy wrath!"
OOC: and in case anybody cares, I use only 100% grade A Real Life historical sea chanteys
. Adopted to fit The World, of course. The sea i smy other hobby, you might say. If I start using too many nautical terms, just warn me and I'll explain myself better.
