[IC] Where the Sky Meets the Mountain

[Mokley]

A brass band blared over a squealing crowd of top hats and parasols gathered on the dock beside the magnificent, shining Lady Arabella. It was a grand ship. A beautiful ship! Shining with gold trim, magnificent polished cedar, masts and sails that kissed the clouds, a figurehead of a mermaid singing to the skies, her hair flowing in protection of her vessel. It was the greatest, grandest ship to have been crafted, as the newspapers had declared for the months leading up to the coronation -- and it was about to embark on a most important, most perilous, most exciting journey whose details were yet unknown to even the seamen who'll sail her. It was a most mysterious and miraculous event, and everyone who was anyone had come out to see the very first airship to attempt to sail around the world. But it was late.

It was supposed to have set off over two hours ago to the great pride and fanfare of the city, but the sails had not even been unfurled. The ladies had had their handkerchiefs prepared for the sendoff, but now clutched them in dwindling expectation. Children squinted at the great shining ship as if they might blink and miss it. Slowly the joyous and excitable noise dwindled to confused murmuring and hopeful explanations.

Seagulls squealed and dipped to partake of funnel cake and pickle sandwiches. Balloons were lost to the sky. The tuba player was beginning to look blue in the face. And then, the crowd roared and whistled as the first mate ascended the stage and stood tall and proud before the brass band, his hat pulled down to his eyes. He waited patiently, pressed and proper, until the band had wrapped up the twentieth round of the only song they knew. The crowd settled down in grinning anticipation. The trappings of the ship whistled and fluttered in the breeze.

"The Lady Arabella," the first mate announced in a firm, proper voice, "will not be sailing today. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please go home."

[Nemaisare]

“What?!”

Among the myriad of voices quickly rising into a hubbub of the same general question, there was one that emerged a little more indignantly than most, though it was rather lost in the overall noise. Shrill though the shout had been. A lot of people had been looking forward to seeing this moment. One of those pinnacle moments when you could tell your kids ‘I was there. I saw the Arabella off on her maiden voyage.’ A historical moment that didn’t involve wars was a pretty damned big deal. You’d think someone would have at least tried to have every problem solved before the big day rolled around. But nope, there she was. Still docked even, she wasn’t even floating, still had her sails all neatly tucked up. Huh, it was probably something stupid. Like they’d forgotten to get the fuel loaded.

“Bah, y’damned creaser. Been up since sparrow-fart to save myself a seat here and we don’t even get us a merry ole explication?” Well, what else should he expect from a crew couldn’t even get their ship launched on time? If that was his da captaining that lady, wouldn’t be no miserable mix-up nor waiting about overlong for some whifling apology about conveniences. Oh no, they wouldn’t have needed to apologise in the first place and he’d have been on board too, sure’s a rat always found the cheese. Whether or not his da wanted him there, besides.

Slouched, grumbling, chin in hand and scowl as dark as a thundercloud on his face, the young boy stayed seated on the lamp post platform he’d put so much effort into claiming as the gathered crowd began to disperse. He wasn’t the only one muttering dire imprecations under his breath either. A few of those he overheard lifted his spirits a small bit, impressed with the rough language. Mostly, however, he simply sat and glared at the ship that wasn’t going to be moving. Almost certain that after such a letdown she’d slip off when no one was watching.

Finally, however, even he could admit defeat. Still, when he hopped off his post and set off, he wasn’t going away from the ship. He wanted to see if he could find out what the trouble was, or at the least get a right proper look at her. Maybe he could find some feather-head to convince that he was owed a look around just for having waited all that time and not a word as to why everyone got to be so disappointed. And if they thought to ask why he was the only one demanding the privilege, he’d just throw in the lot and tell them that everyone else was too damned swerked to think of it.

[Mokley]

"It's a good thing, too." A couple of sailors were sitting on stolen folding chairs on the dock, eating funnel cake and coffee. One of them made a dismissive gesture. "If the capt'n can't get his head out o' the bog long enough ta set off the dock, I can't say I'd trust him ta get us ta port alive." The speaker was tall and lanky, with a crooked nose and a careless smile.

His companion swallowed coffee thoughtfully. "I don't think he's hung over. He's drunk more than that in a sitting without a blink. But you talk like you're telling me you'd rather stay here." He was only as tall as his fellow sailor, but bald and powerful with a sharp, young face.

"Hah, and not get paid?" Crooked-nose sat forward with a squint and frown. "What'll I do here besides get flayed by my wife? Nah, I'd rather die in a blaze of glory when our captain drives us into the side of a mountain."

"A hero's death," baldie agreed with a wry smile, and they saluted each other with their coffee cups.

The crowd was dispersing in a murmur. An eldely man wheeled a squeaky bin around and picked up trash morosely, swatting at seagulls. The food and souvenir vendors -- the only happy faces in the crowd -- packed up their empty stalls and rushed off to count their earnings. The band was packing up while the winded tuba player waited for the first mate to count out a handful of money appropriate for the delay. The tuba player accepted a generous doubling of their agreed fee and the band bumped and shuffled off the empty stage, leaving the first mate standing solemnly alone.

The first mate turned and peered up toward the deck of the Annabella, where several bored soldiers were leaning on the rail and waiting for more orders or for permission to go home.

The ship itself was still securely tethered to the dock by thick ropes. The gangplank still allowed sailors to move freely between the ship and the dock, though the cargo door had been shut and sealed long ago, while there had still been an assumption that the ship would set off.

[Nemaisare]

As he neared the ship, Nils helped the old man chase off some gulls, the big birds were always good for a round of cussing. They always sounded so shrill, like old biddies after their son-in-laws, Da said. He grinned now as he sent one winging off screaming, and figured maybe his da was right. “Ah garn, y’old coot, en’t nothing but wrapper there anyways.”

Then he idled his way down the dock as though he hadn’t a care in the world to offer the celebrity not half a stone’s throw away. Never mind that she was far too big to miss, and he looked exactly the sort to be causing trouble if he could manage. And never mind that there wasn’t much else of interest nearby, and you couldn’t go far wrong blaming him ahead of time for whatever plans he was brewing. He was only really thinking to get as close as he could before he got run off and see just how close that was. Maybe he’d get to see her caulking and all if he was lucky. But he happened to overhear the last of the conversation between the two sailors and scoffed as he turned to look them over.

Beanpole and Baldie. They looked like they might well be able to handle themselves in a blow. And him with the crooked-nose might’ve been in one, or a fight. Or maybe he’d just walked into a door… “Cor blimey, you daft clunkers, what’s so fussed great about a mountain as’ll have it make you heroes for ramming right into it?”

The question, while couched in rudeness as he couldn’t very well let them know he was actually curious, was quite sincere. He’d love to know if they actually meant that, or if they just didn’t have the best opinion of their captain. Had he called it right then? Was the trouble nothing more than a bad crew hired to ship out? Or was there something else about the ship making the captain hesitate?

[Mokley]

The sailors lowered their cups, cast a blink at the kid, and glanced at each other.

"Oy," crooked-nose barked, leaning on one knee, "who're you callin' a clunker?"

"It's called sarcasm, boy," baldie huffed, peering down at him with only slight amusement. "Different people have different ideas about what makes a hero. Only one I know of that would consider a mountain one of them."

"I'd rather not be a hero, by that definition," crooked-nose pointed out, waggling a finger at the kid. He sighed and leaned back. "But no use fer it. Unless we mutiny we're not shovin' off at all. No captain, no sail. We'll die miserable and alone in our beds."

"What are you hanging around for, kid?" baldie asked, and his eyes had turned suspicious.

[Nemaisare]

Nils laughed as they explained themselves. Mostly, enjoying the crooked-nosed man’s indignation at his name calling. Won him no favours, but it worked every time, didn’t it just?

He screwed up his face as they finished up though, snorting. “Can’t think of anyone as would want to be a hero smashing into mountains. Wouldn’t be a hero for long.” He didn’t think there would be many survivors, if any, of such a crash. Since it was unlikely to happen purposefully, however, it no longer interested him unduly, so he left it alone for the moment. “No captain? What? You lost him in the hold? Find out he’s afraid of heights?”

The youth scoffed, putting on superior airs that were easily seen through, even if still rather annoying. “What’s keeping the launch, anyhow? Never seen more disappointed folks all together like ‘at since the Festival got shut down years back. Nor ever heard a less likely tale than an airship staying grounded a day like today. Wind’s right for getting along, en’t no faffles t’worry about and no gale neither. What’re you waiting for? The tide?”

[Mokley]

Crooked-nose squinted at Nils. "Ya ask a lotta smarmy questions, doncha kid? Where's yer mum? Why docha go play in some broken glass or somethin?"

"Now, now, it's obvious that our friend here has knowledge and experience in the field of air sailing," Baldie said with a serene smile. "We shouldn't embarrass ourselves by admitting how useless we are."

Crooked-nose took a mouthful of coffee and gave his companion a curious glare. What game was he playing?

Baldie went on, addressing Nils: "We're waiting for the captain to arrive," he explained, "and he will, when the time is right. You see," he leaned down with a finger against the side of his nose in secrecy, "the captain is very particular about his sailors. Only those who'll wait and believe in him will get to set off. Already we've lost the navigator and the cabin boy to a rampant case of impatience."

Crooked-nose raised his eyebrows and grinned. "That's right. Sorry, kid -- we might've recruited you to fill a position, but you seem ta be the impatient sort." He waved his hand in dismissal.

[Nemaisare]

Now he was getting somewhere! Always knew he’d struck a nerve when someone told him to do something stupid and life threatening. Hard to miss that particular sign. Kept his grin pasted right front and center brilliant too. It was the bald man’s answer that made him hesitate, smile fading as he also wondered where this was going now.

Useless was exactly the sort of insult he’d been wanting to throw at them. What’d this fellow mean, going about calling it down on himself instead of getting uppity? Where was the fun in that? Well, no fun, but it might get him the answers he’d thought to look for. The explanation blew him away so thoroughly that he stood there blinking for a full ten seconds before throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Pfah! Time was right two hours gone and you’re set there telling me the cap were being partikler about his own crew believing in him?”

He was scowling as fiercely as he knew how, almost as fed up as he had been enjoying himself moments ago. He couldn’t tell if they were playing him or not. But core… If they weren’t, the notion of a spot on board the Annabella was damnably tempting. And there wasn’t anyone as could tell him no, either. Well, not anyone nearby anyway. “What’s he supposed to be anyhow, the bogeyman? You saying there’s openings?”

The second question emerged a good sight less scornful than the first, though he remained extremely suspicious. It was probably too good to be true.

[Mokley]

"Oh, now he's int'rested in openings!" crooked-nose crowed, waving his coffee cup. "Now that he's insulted us and the captain." Not at all mentioning that he, himself, had insulted the captain not long ago.

Baldie only maintained his patient smile. "Well, sure there are openings. The captain only recruits the best, which means to say that only the best get recruited. There aren't many to begin with who'll meet his standards, and even fewer who are willing to spend years of their lives on a ship bound for the unknown."

"To discover the edge of the world and live to tell the tale," crooked-nose sang. It wasn't quite clear what was mixed in with his coffee.

Baldie's smile grew just a bit smug. "So if you think you're good enough to sail on the Annabella, you'll have to pass the captain's test."

"The hat trick!" shouted crooked-nose with a crooked grin.

"Quite so," Baldie went on. "You'll have to first find the captain, and then knock his hat off his head." Crooked-nose illustrated by flicking a finger over his own scalp. "Only then will he consider you for his crew."

"Pure and simple," crooked-nose agreed. He toasted the dusty, barefoot kid and tipped the rest of his coffee down the hatch.

[Nemaisare]

For a moment, a long moment, after they’d finished explaining the ins and outs of getting hired, Nils only looked at them. His expression very clearly confused and wistful. He knew how easy it was to get into the rigs that sailed the water, he’d seen a few of his friends run down to the docks and get caught up in the rush easy as you please. Not half as many folks wanted a job on the water anymore now the ships could take to the air. But there were still so many more floating on the waves than off them. There was a good sight worth of competition to get aboard anything even close to the Annabella’s make, and here these two were sitting there telling him he’d get the job just as soon as he knocked off their captain’s hat!

He’d have been a fool to believe them. What sort of man went around inviting the indignity of getting his hat knocked off his head? He could hear his da calling down a world of trouble on anyone even thinking to try the same with him. “So…” He said, all business now the fun’d been taken out of making mock. “So, you’re after telling me as your cap’s so down on hisself he needs others t’do his believin’ in hisself for ‘im, and now he’s gone and lost hisself somewhere?”

He didn’t see much point in believing in a man who didn’t believe in himself. Why else would he make that a requirement of his crew?

“And I knocks his hat off’n his head, he’ll have me onboard?” The question emerged in a rather rhetorical fashion, he’d heard them the first time, and simply couldn’t express his incredulous opinion without the repetition. “Yous two think I was born yesterday? Pfah, I ain’t never heard such fadoodle. G’wan squiddle someone else’s time.”

He waved his hand dismissively and turned to head back the way he’d come. More annoyed that he even wanted to believe what they were telling him than that they’d turned the game back on him.

[Mokley]

"All right, kid!" crooked-nose called after him with a laugh. "You tell us! We don't know nuffin, don't need ya either. Have a nice rest o' yer life!" Baldie chuckled with him, and the two of them -- proud of having twisted around the kid's dreams for a laugh -- continued their earlier discussions, to quickly forget him. The kid was just like all the others, after all: big talk, no follow-through.

The sun was beginning to set; the sky was turning shades of pink and purple, yellow and orange, like a painting behind the furled sails and the waving flags and streamers. A cloud was descending upon the city, gently frosting the distant buildings, though it threatened to grow thicker. People on the streets seemed little more than shadows. A fire truck whistled by in the distance. Seagulls spiraled overhead, fighting over the last remains of the festival. The janitor had stopped working, and was leaning on the rail staring out into the blazing sky thoughtfully. A thin black dog with a glimmering collar raced after the seagulls with a growl and a jumping bark and began to devour the leftovers for itself.

Something whizzed past Nils' ear and grazed his hair. It was a little flighty thing, looked like a red and black bat at first, flapping hard toward the dock. When it screeched it sounded like a chirruping squirrel -- and when it slowed, it looked like a snake with wings and claws. It swung around and beat at the languid sailors' heads where they sat on the dock, scratching at their hair and snapping its little jaws. Baldie and Crooked-Nose flung their arms at it, shouted at it to get lost, until the little creature circled again and flew up and over the rail of the ship itself, where it began tormenting the sailors onboard. A few minutes passed, and finally the creature appeared again, chattering, and it soared and circled round and round the docked ship.

[Nemaisare]

Nils had gave the pair a crude gesture by way of response to their send off, and wandered back down the dock to maybe go back to chasing gulls or something. He didn’t know, bloody well had the whole day ruined, hadn’t he? First the ship didn’t even leave, and then those sailors had a bit of sport with him. Yanking his hopes around wasn’t funny. He didn’t care that he’d been trying for pretty much the same on his end, just, playing the game at their expense instead. He only cared that it hadn’t worked out to him on top. Bah! They could take their poor liddle captain and his loose hat and send it all off spinning with the chaff. He’d no interest in chasing down a proper bit of lip from any creaser he went knocking the hat off of. Not that knocking hats off folks wasn’t, in and of itself, an amusing past time. Nils just figured he’d have to be knocking off a lot of tricorns before he found this one, specific captain. Didn’t even know what the blighter looked like, did he? And the risk of getting caught up in the garboil sure to follow such reaks wasn’t half worth it. They’d be sure to get his da involved. Changing tack, the dog’s bark caught his attention, and he figured he could find something a little more entertaining with the beast, though it didn’t look like a stray, not with the collar gleaming on its neck like that. Still, he didn’t much like black dogs, too many stories about them being unnatural. Old grims weren’t like to help you catch anything but your own death, so he’d heard. So, even though he might have gained something for his pocket trying to catch and bring it home, he was kicking through the garbage looking for harder bits and bobs to throw at it than anything that might be more interesting when the thing buzzed his ear and made him yelp in surprise. The thing, however, was worth far more than some gamey old dog and a few stones to throw at it. Especially when it zipped right up to those two sailors and started pestering them as bad as a beggar’s brat. Nils’ grin grew right out of his shock with a huge satisfaction as the beast kept after them and then even went after those on the ship. He laughed in glee, enjoying their plight, then gave a high, sharp whistle once he’d won his breath back and shouted over the commotion, voice still full of his initial mirth. “Ha! Pesker thinks your blighted ship’s no better’n a crab-skuit! Shows you what you lot know, giving ‘er fancy airs.”