Chap. 111 The Ship

Chap. 111 The Ship

T'ovar had brought D'mitran, D'nis and K'ndar down to the docks to see how the equipment for the new observatory was being loaded.

Burly men were moving large crates, securing each one in turn to a tripod on the back end of the ship and swinging it aboard. K'ndar was intrigued at how they used blocks and ropes to move even the biggest loads with finesse. 

Rahman, the elderly astronomer, was there, overseeing the handling of the telescope.

"Hello, K'ndar! It's been a while, hasn't it! Thank you for coming. I'd asked for you specifically, you know," the man said.

"Hello, sir! It's good to see you! Thank you for recommending me." K'ndar said. 

"D'nis, are you happy to be relieved of your duties a Weyrleader?" Rahman said to the bronze rider.

"You have no idea, sir. Yes, I am. Even without having Thread to fight, it's two jobs for one person."

But Rahman had turned away at the sight of a man apparently mishandling a burden.

"You there! Have a care with that crate, sir, it's got delicate instrumentation in it," Rahman chastised a stevedore. K'ndar backed up without thinking-the man was the size of a bronze dragon, with muscles to match. He towered over the tiny astronomer.

"Aye, sir, not to worry, I'll be careful," the man said, a smile on his face. K'ndar was surprised, he'd thought the man would react more…forcefully…but apparently, they knew Rahman, who, when it came to telescopes, could be testy.

T'ovar grinned. Rahman moved on. T'ovar said, "anyone else treat the men like that, you'd get at least some backtalk, but ah, these lads, they know the old man. He's always bringing them some sort of treat, or at least, treating them to an ale now and then. They appreciate it."

The bustling of the crew looked hectic. For all that, the crew was virtually silent, having been together as a crew for most of their lives.  They were moving large loads from the dock to the ship by crossing ridiculously narrow gangplanks, ones that seemed inadequate and awfully close to the cold, dark waters beneath. The ship rose up and down with the swell as well as rocking slightly, side to side. No one seemed bothered by the motion of the ship.

"Ever been aboard a ship, K'ndar?" T'ovar asked. 

"No, sir, I'm steppe bred. I hardly know how to swim. It looks very…very complicated. All these ropes, how do you remember them all?"

T'over laughed. "I'm the wrong man to ask that, K'ndar. I'm weyrbred myself. But my wife's sons and daughter are all fishers. See yon brute, over by the capstan? That's one of my stepsons."

K'ndar saw at least half a dozen men who could all be described as brutes.

"What's a …capstan?"

"It's that horizontal wheel, and don't quote me, K'ndar, as I'm a dragonrider. But, as I said, my boys are fisherfolk from birth, you know, and they've taught me a few things. Darman!, Hi, Darman!"

The man turned at the call of his name, and his face split into a smile. He headed for the break in the bulwark where the gangplank was. At the same time, a tall, officious looking woman, who was standing on a high point of the deck, turned as well. They both approached the side of the ship where T'ovar stood. 

 "Good morning, Captain! Permission to come aboard?"

She looked at him, shaking her head in doubt.

"I don't know, Dad. Looks like you've a couple strangers in tow," she said.

T'ovar laughed. "Sheila, she's my girl, AND the Captain!" he said to the dragonmen. Then, he said, "Aye, lassie, they're dragonmen. Come to do the survey."

"I see. Certainly, come aboard, but stay out my crew's way," she said. 

K'ndar was…wary. The only way he could see to board the ship was to walk out across the heaving waters of the sea on one of those skinny planks. The gangplank was NOT steady. It was rising and falling with the ship. Overhead, the masts were scribing small, invisible circles as they moved with the ship. 

 But T'ovar walked across it without a thought, followed by D'nis, and D'mitran. 

He didn't know it, but they had just as many misgivings as he did. He hurried across it, fearful of falling into the water, where he would certainly be squished between the hull and the rock wall of the dock.

"No fear of that, my girl, I can see they're busy." T'ovar said to Sheila, as he crossed. 

Darman and Sheila bear hugged T'ovar. He made introductions all round. Darman shook K'ndar's hand. Rough and callused, it engulfed his. They grow 'em big, up here in the north, he thought. 

"If you'll forgive me, Dad, gentlemen, but I have a ship to tend to," she said.  She returned to her deck, watching over her crew.

"What's her name?" D'mitran asked.

"Sheila," Darman said, perplexed. 

"No, I mean the SHIP, what's the ship's name?"

"Duh," Darman laughed, "She's the Sea Dragon. Sheila built her and named her for Mum's being a fisherman, and T'ovar's dragonriding."

"She BUILT this ship?" K'ndar said, amazed. 

"Well, not all on her own, mind you. The crew, here, and Sheila, they did the building, of course.  Like most of us fisherfolk, we're born aboard a ship. We live most of our lives aboard. We learn as kids what works and what doesn't. The crew stays together, it becomes family, if we get along with everyone else. We grow up dreaming of owning our own ship. 

Me, I sort of fell away from the idea-I wasn't sure I wanted to spend my entire life fishing. That and there was some friction between me and dad. Okay, a LOT of friction.  After my dad died, I didn't want to go the way he did, pulled overboard by a fouled net and drowned. So I did some wandering, tried working inland. I didn't care for it. I learned I wasn't cut out to be a farmer.  So I came home. To be honest, I still don't rightly feel I'm going to be a fisherman for the rest of my life, but for now, it's what I know. 

But Sheila, from the beginning, had her ship all planned. The name came later, but even as a kid, she talked of nothing else."

"Does everyone name a ship?" K'ndar asked, hoping to not sound too naïve. The ship's motion was unnerving. No one else seemed to be unsteady, but he found it hard to keep his footing.

"Does your dragon have a name?"

"Of course!"

"Same thing with ships. They have to have a name. They have their own personality. You get to where they're like a wife, you know everything about her, when she's not doing well, she complains until you hunt down what's ailing her. You take care of the ship, she takes care of you. Some captains, they neglect their ship, or abuse their crew, don't pay them right, don't feed them right, take risks for one last fish instead of heeding the dolphins, and then wonder why they can't keep crew. Just like a man who doesn't take care of his family or he treats them bad, his kids leave home soon as they can." 

That was too true, K'ndar thought. 

Darman looked him up and down. "Ah, looks like you've been in to see Mum. She's got you kitted up. She figured you'd be cold, you being southerners."

"She's right, Darman," D'mitran said, "Don't know how you can stand being bare armed, and me, I wish I had another six layers, feeling as if it's the middle of a cold winter."

"One works up a sweat on a ship, we do," Darman laughed. "That sweater, K'ndar, looks like it fits you just right." 

"It does. Your mum said it had 'errors' in the design, but I don't care, it's warm. Your Mum gave it to me, wouldn't take money for it."

Darman laughed. It sounded like from the depths of the sea. "Aye, no doubt! That one was a mistake on MY part, you know, I think I knitted it half a dozen times before Mum let up on me. I still am not the best of knitters, but…that 'un will stay together."

"Let's take you on a tour of the ship," Darman said, looking at the crew still loading. "I've got one of my best men looking after Rahman's gear."

"What does the 'capstan' do?" K'ndar asked.  

 Darman said, "Ah, that's as good a place to start as any." He led them to a horizontal wheel, one with long bars jutting out from the hub.

Crew raising the anchor via the capstan. The artist, however, had never actually seen a capstan in use, as he (or she) has the anchor cable running UP into the rigging, and worse, drew a man straddling the cable. That's a good way to get hurt. In reality, the cables were run under the deck.

"It's a wheel, you see, like the master's wheel, only it's set horizontally. When you want to up anchor, you push it around and around, it's the same thing as the spit in the kitchen, the ones the canines..I mean dogs..push to turn a roasting herdbeast, I mean steer. Same principle, just set at different angles."

"Ah."

"It's connected to cables that ultimately raise the anchor."

K'ndar had a vague idea what an anchor was.

Darman led them across the deck, dodging crates and working men and women. The ship seemed cramped, to K'ndar, how in the world did all these people FIT? 

K'ndar began to feel odd. His eyes suddenly weren't tracking quite right and he felt dizzy. And hot. 

"Where…where is the bow wave?" he asked Darman, trying to ignore his suddenly complaining stomach. 

"What?"

"My friend, Lindea, told me that dolphins ride the bow wave. I would like to see it, or them?"

Darman shook his head. "Lad, every ship that moves has a bow wave. It's not a thing, it's what the water does when the ship moves."

He looked closer at K'ndar.

"You look…green."

"I…I FEEL green. I feel so..well, strange. Like I ate something bad, but your mum's breakfast was perfect," he said, beginning to sweat despite the cold.

"Get your arse over to the side," he suddenly snapped, "Sheila doesn't like people being sick on her ship."

K'ndar was more than happy to obey. He rushed to the side of the ship and was sick over the railing. He felt dreadful.

He heard two crewman behind him stifle laughter.

"E's a landsman, no doubt. Seasick in a flat calm!!"

The other laughed.

But K'ndar didn't care. He lay his suddenly raging head on the railing, trying to summon up the courage to cross the bouncing gangplank and return to solid, non-moving land, and wondering if falling into the water would be a swift end to his sudden, unexpected misery.  

Within inches of his face, he saw a familiar looking object, securing a line to an eyebolt on the rail. 

"A flying cringle," he thought, and then ran for solid land.