First Tackle : written

[contentwithoutcommand]

[David has had... three days. He's taken three days living with his sister to sort out where he is and what's going on. Which, as far as he can tell, is all very vague.

Of course, a woman like Faith can't be expected to have any sort of reckoning of points of longitude and latitude, and he doesn't have the tools required yet to shoot the sun to take his own calculations. He is most certainly not in England or the West Indies, though. Of that much, he can be certain.

The Journal is his biggest contemplation. He's watched it, these last few days. He doesn't understand most of it, but he has seen how it can used to address letters and even speeches to the general population. How the latter works, he doesn't know. Really, how it works in general is a mystery, but he understands the written form best.

There's no telling who will read what he writes as he finally takes up a pen, so he's careful with his wording. Around him are about twenty sheets on which he's practiced before committing himself to this.]

The fourth of May.

[No location, he doesn't grasp that well enough yet to make that distinction.]

To whom it may concern:

[There may be an admiral or commodore or post-captain in this strange place, but he can't be sure, so a more general heading will have to do.]

I arrived here on the first of May. After making a basic of study of the area, I proceeded to the north where I found a village. It is the only one according to local information. I established a residence and read what is provided by way of documentation. I have since collected my possessions that have arrived: my uniform, my pocketwatch, and my telescope.

My ship is lost, my crew unaccounted for, and the fleet far out of range of communication. I write this dispatch in the hope that it might be received by someone in a position to answer it.

I am, most respectfully, your servant,

D Long, commander of His Majesty's Sloop Hornet, R. N.

[The strangest dispatch he has ever written, David thinks, but it will do. It might also give him some indication if there are any brother officers here, if any of his crew or squadron have suffered the same fate.]

Comments

[contentwithoutcommand]

I heard there'd been others.

...Didn't ask much about them. [Long admits it with a slight grin.] I was more interested in -- seems they left a ship behind when they went.

[greenjacketed]

...They did, at that. The Britannia, though I never had the chance to board her. Have you been down to the shore?

[contentwithoutcommand]

I have. [He frowns slightly, still puzzling out exactly how he went from the barracks to near the shore so quickly. Things that defied his sense of the possible... but he shakes his head. A problem for another day.] It's... something of a relief, I admit, to know there's sea close at hand.

[greenjacketed]

They say it never used to be a ocean, but was instead a great desert.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Really? Well. [He flashes a grin, half chuckling. It's less disturbing to think about than other things.] I suppose, given this place, that shouldn't sound so strange, should it?

[greenjacketed]

I believe I've been here too long. My notion of what's strange and what ain't is a bloody mess.

[contentwithoutcommand]

I... suppose it's the same as with anywhere. One gets used to it... in time. [From his tone? That'll take awhile.]

[greenjacketed]

I believe the brunt of this place took me until the half-year. There are surprises still left that no one bothers to tell you 'bout.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Will it do me any good to ask you of them, Major? I should like to be as prepared as I can.

[Granted, given what he's seen so far... "prepared" might be an overstatement as to how much a warning will help process what else there might be.]

[greenjacketed]

...February is a rough month, though I did not survive my first until recently. They play with people's hearts, Commander. And their feelings. They invent things what shouldn't be there.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Invent things? [Possible? It must be. The major, after all, has no reason to lie. How? Long isn't sure he wants to know.] Christ.

[greenjacketed]

Make you love people you don't. Make you hate ones you wouldn't want to. Make you remember things wrong. Make you think you're someone else. It's what they do. It's their bloody nature.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Christ. How the hell do they manage to do that? [It seems impossible, but he knows well enough that is the nature of this place. After all, he has wings on his back, under his coat.]

[greenjacketed]

Some say it's witchcraft, but I'm not so certain I believe it.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Sounds it to me, but I've only just come. [He leans forward a bit, intent on this question.] What do you think it is?

[greenjacketed]

Others say it's some scientific advancement far beyond our reckoning. I find that explanation a mite more comforting.

[contentwithoutcommand]

Might be. Plenty in this place that I can't explain myself. Science or magic? I'd believe either, certainly.

[greenjacketed]

You'll see a bloody lot of both, if you last long enough. Magic in the people and science in the walls. For instance -- [ he points above their heads, at the bar's lighting. ]

[contentwithoutcommand]

Very useful, that. [One of many wonders he'd been pondering over since his arrival. He smiles faintly as he adds:] Faith won't use them. She keeps to sunlight and candles.

[Not that he blames her for sticking with the familiar.]

[greenjacketed]

That was me for a good many months. But then the sun disappears in winter and it's bloody cold to run out and get yerself some candles. You tell yourself you'll only use it just the once, but then...? Ah, well. It grows on you. 'Sides, I live with a family what's used to it.

[contentwithoutcommand]

I can certainly understand how it would. [But the latter part is of far more interest. David tilts his head, all polite inquiry.]

A family, Major?

[greenjacketed]

[ he clears his throat. ] Not my own, Long. But I keep a billet with a pair of sisters. They are the pair of them quite young, and I look after'em as I can.

[contentwithoutcommand]

[A pair of sisters. That is something that bears looking into, David decides. He can... half withhold immediate judgement, but it will be something in the corner of his mind from now on.]

That is very kind of you, Major. [His expression, though, remains as it was, and the words are as sincere and easygoing as he can sound.] I suppose that sort of thing happens often around here, with so many scattered from their usual places. [Which might be all the man is doing. Looking after a pair of sisters with no one else to see that they're well. He is completely willing to believe it. He just also knows the possibilities in other directions, as well.]

[greenjacketed]

Kind? [ he considers the word. it felt like a duty, not a kindness. albeit a duty he's only too happy to perform. ] Aye. Maybe. The older of the two cooks, and so I can't complain.

[contentwithoutcommand]

That's a blessing, indeed. [David chuckles faintly.] I would imagine they're quite grateful to you for your assistance. There are many men who wouldn't trouble themselves.