a wee mod announcement [17 Aug 2004|07:50pm] strawberryelfsp To any readers out there: Though we've always described ourselves as "the world's slowest-moving RPG", you may have noticed that lately the slow has turned to a stop. We felt it was only polite to let you know the reasons for our hiatus. Our Joe Nagle, slightlytricky, has spent the month preparing for her recent trip to Kenya. She's back now and is getting rested up and back into the swing of things. Our Doctor, marginalia, has been having some computer trouble which is just now getting sorted. And our Captain, mellyflori, has been preparing for an extended vacation and will be back within the next two weeks. Because this isn't a true RPG, but rather a 5-person collaborative exercise, we don't like to write without all our sailors involved. Once everyone is here and feeling more caught up, we'll be getting back to our open thread and beginning new ones. We just wanted to make sure you all know how much we appreciate your comments, support and interest. Hopefully in the next few weeks we'll be back at the helm. :) 18 comments|post comment

evening belowdecks [30 Jun 2004|09:39pm] barrett_bonden saturday night, concurrent with this. If there’s one thing can be said about the HMS Surprise, it’s that Lucky Jack Aubrey knows how to feed his men. The smell of boiled salt pork greets Bonden’s nostrils when Doudle sets down their pot and tray, and several eager hands are already reaching for the slices of dark bread. Knowing what it’s like to eat from the bottom of the hold and pick the tack from your teeth with a rat’s bone, Bonden hopes these lads know just how good they have it on board the always-slightly-overstocked Surprise. Apparently they do, as the opened pot is hailed with a small cheer and a raised cup to the skipper. Six mugs clank together in the center of the table before the dishing out begins. The seventh mug stays in the shadows. The eighth is in a locker down below. No one looks over to the corner where Joe Nagle hunches into the curve of the wall, staring down into the depths of his cup. Everyone feels the weight of the empty space on the bench, but the burden falls heaviest on the young carpenter’s mate. The lads give him his space and spare him their stares, but the volume around the table soon rises to its normal pitch of hearty banter and occasionally raucous laughter. Life goes on quickly at sea, from necessity rather than heartlessness. The striking of the bells never slows and neither can a sailor. To do less would be to go mad and quick. Bonden holds out a bowl and chuckles at the rather colorful joke that Slade could barely finish telling for his fit of giggles. The two young powdermonkeys join in the laughter, though the subject matter is completely lost on them. Bonden sets the bowl and a piece of bread down in front of Joe Plaice, and waits for the old man to pick up his spoon and begin to eat absently before turning to his own plate. Doudle is speculating on the shore leave they will get once capturing the Acheron, and the quality of the women they will be in a position to entice with their share of the prize money. Slade’s conjectured descriptions make the powdermonkeys’ eyes grow large and slightly frightened. “I reckon the dice will be good, too, with all that coin,” says Slade. “A man could turn a fine profit. You up for a few tosses, Barrett?” “Barrett don’t rely on the dice for his profit,” grins Doudle. “But I’d gladly toss a few your way, Slade,” says Bonden, flexing his fists over the bread plate. “Would be an improvement, I think,” says Doudle, grabbing Slade’s smooth face with one hand. The table erupts in more laughter. All eyes move up when Nagle stands abruptly, drains his cup, and pushes past their shoulders to drop down the hatch without a sound. Doudle opens his mouth to call after him but Bonden stops him and the table’s eyes turn his way. Slade and Doudle watch him with matching expressions of ominous worry. The powdermonkeys are just watching him. Old Joe eats his food in the corner. Bonden picks up Nagle’s untouched plate and stands, setting his mug on the table. “Don’t worry,” he says, and follows Nagle’s shadow down below. 12 comments|post comment

[26 May 2004|02:41pm] captjackaubrey It would have been too much, had the sun been out. It would have been some kind of perverse irony were the sky above blue and cloudless for the service. Church has been rigged and the men stand in their best clothes while the wind blows ragged the pigtails so carefully plaited. Ribbons sewn into seams are soaked with spray. Were this an ordinary service Jack might have wondered at all the finery in this weather, but this is the first moment of public mourning for Will Warley. If there are a few more attentive stares and not quite so many distracted glances out of respect for Warley, it does not escape Jack’s attention. Jack is grateful, this once, for the detachment of a Captain which allows him to speak over the men’s heads, to orate to the foremast instead of to their faces and, in so doing, to avoid looking any of them in the eye. When the rustling of his officers settles and the Marines are all at attention Jack looks down to the book Tom is handing him and notices where it has opened. The words of Psalm 107 swim briefly and Jack swallows, speaking firmly. “They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven; they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven.” A pause to let the words settle and Jack speaks again. “In these days of wind and storms it is good to know that the Almighty is indeed with us, He hears us when we cry out in the tempests, and He is evermore beside us. We might wish, as we look around our numbers today, that the Lord had chosen to deliver Warley back into our midst but we may never doubt that he was brought out of his distresses. And he was not alone at the end.” As he turns to the Articles of War Jack can feel in him the fervent hope that his words are true, the feeling is almost a prayer. 6 comments|post comment

Dinner in the Captain's cabin [25 Feb 2004|05:16pm] captjackaubrey Jack always likes to think that the great room looks more inviting in the evening. From where he stands in his cabin, with Killick bustling around him brushing, tugging, and fussing with his coat, Jack can see the table laid for dinner. The candles are unlit still but the wine is open and the tablecloth is pale yellow in the light of the lantern. Killick grumbles something that may be “Burning the meat..” and Jack dismisses him quickly. A man of great appetites, Jack would never willingly ruin a good meal. He follows Killick from the sleeping cabin and goes to stand by the stern windows. Open, latched to the ceiling, they let in stray breezes from the sea and the smell of fresh pitch on the rigging along with the sounds of work on deck. The bustle is louder than usual as the men work to repair the mizzenmast. The increase in noise on deck is not the only unusual aspect of the evening; tonight the table is set for only three. Mowett is on deck, monitoring the work of the hands and answering questions as they arise. Poor Alleyn has been bundled into his berth since sundown with a racking cough brought on by the damp and cold of the previous day. In light of these decreases in their numbers Jack has chosen simply not to pass the word for Captain Howard or one of the midshipmen. Tonight he will be dining only with the Doctor and his first lieutenant. And, if he is honest, Jack rather likes the idea of dinner with Tom and Stephen. Jack is not, by his nature, a formal man, and the amount of wine that it takes to bring a dinner in the Captain’s cabin to a level of informality that he is comfortable with can seriously inhibit the next day’s productivity. He likes the idea that Tom and Stephen will come through the door not expecting him to be grand in his proclamations or wise in his words, especially after the events of these last two days. He will be able to speak of home and happenings and not feel pressured to live up to their expectations. He has chosen, deliberately, to set all three places at one end of the table rather than a seat at the head and foot and another abandoned along one side. He has also chosen his favorite port to end the meal. He will not feel pressured to keep his coat on for the entire evening. These are the things that make a good meal for him, not pomp and clever anecdotes. Reaching into the closest lantern Jack takes the taper and holds it over the candles on the table. The area around the table is suddenly warm with light, the corners still dark in shadow and combined with the cooking smells coming from the galley the feeling is quietly intimate. There is a soft rap at the door and a smile brightens Jack’s face. “Come in.” 8 comments|post comment

[27 Jan 2004|10:17pm] strawberryelfsp Guestbook of the HMS Surprise Feel free to leave all comments and feedback here! 27 comments|post comment

Morning on Deck (Bonden/Nagle/Pullings) [14 Jan 2004|03:00pm] thomas_pullings It is still early. The air has not yet taken on the scent of the thirty or forty bodies presently waking in various corners of the Surprise, and even the most ambitious of the early risers on deck are only now opening their eyes wide enough to see more than the feet in front of them. Tom finds these mornings after a death on board terribly quiet, often strained; more so because he can only communicate a placidly sympathetic glance in the direction of the seamen, and to one in particular he would like to communicate far more. Joseph Nagle, who served with some distinction aboard the Ramillies with Tom—before the last of several incidents involving the stream of coarse with that flows naturally from Nagle's tongue like the Articles of War do from Tom's—works away at his repairs, but there is something deeply unsettled about the man. Tom knows him, but not well, and Tom believes strongly that the death of Nagle's best friend, their ebullient, intelligent Captain of the Mizzen Will Warley, has broken something inside the Carpenter's Mate. Tom's eyes flicker from Nagle's back to the helm, where Barrett Bonden, Coxswain and steady presence on this ship for years, handles the wheel like the expert he is. Barrett meets Tom's eyes even when many other seamen do not, and for this Tom is grateful. "Mr. Bonden," Tom says quietly, stepping behind Bonden to gaze out over the horizon. "We find ourselves lucky today, do we not? Calm after the storm. I don't expect the Captain for at least another hour, so please maintain your present course." Tom drops his voice a bit lower, so only Bonden can hear. "And while Mr. Lamb is still below deck, keep an eye on Mr. Nagle, if you please." Tom nods to Bonden, quite confident that the Coxswain understands his meaning, and returns to pacing the quarterdeck. Yes, it is still early. But for now, Tom is pleased to have the watch in this quiet. 6 comments|post comment

Breakfast in the Captain's Cabin [14 Jan 2004|01:47pm] captjackaubrey The tap at the door is an unexpected formality. Jack and Stephen are known to stand on ceremony when in the company of others but years of breakfasts together on slow days mean that Stephen’s company is not only customary, but anticipated. Still, Jack is pleased that Stephen is acknowledging that the air might not be entirely clear between them. It will give him a chance to broach the subject without too much difficulty. Jack knows that he sometimes lacks tact. Usually Stephen is there to help smooth things over but in this case it is Stephen who would suffer if Jack has to stumble and work too hard to get the right words, and that would never do. “Come in.” The Doctor’s face is settled into tentative neutrality as he enters. “Oh good,” Jack’s face quirks in a sheepish smile. “I had worried that after our words yesterday you might beg off this morning. I know I can be … well… difficult at times.” Stephen’s grin flickers so fast Jack isn’t sure it was ever there. “Hubris does take up so much room on the table, Jack. I am glad that this morning it will just be you and me.” Jack flushes slightly, still stung by the knowledge that his determination sent a good man overboard into the storm. By focusing on charts and plans, and consulting with Mr. Lamb on the repair of the mizzenmast, Jack’s been able to avoid thinking too much on Warley’s death. Stephen’s arrival and the reminder of their argument the night before force Jack to admit that the loss of a trusted seaman might be the least of the repercussions. “Jack,” comes Stephen’s tentative beginning, but the opening of the cabin door and the smell of bacon cuts off his question. Killick enters accompanied by the sound of clanking cutlery and colorful oaths and that ought to be enough of a distraction for both of them. But even while the table is being laid and Jack busies himself with the pretense of arranging his coat across the chair back he can feel Stephen’s eyes on him and knows the discussion won’t be over that easily. 4 comments|post comment

Ship's Log Entry, 17 April 1805 [13 Jan 2004|11:35pm] thomas_pullings Ship’s log, HMS Surprise Marked this day, 17 April, 1805, by 1st Lt. T. Pullings Storm at Sea now passed. Damage to Ship minimal with exception of Mizzen Mast, which being unrepaired from Attack of French Frigate Acheron, was rent asunder by the Gale. Attempts to retrieve Mast unsuccessful. Captain, Master and Carpenter’s Mate obliged to cut Mast loose to prevent loss of Ship and Crew. Resuming previous course in pursuit of Acheron, as per Orders. Crew behaved with merit during the Storm. Injured: Several men in infirmary with sickness of stomach, all expected to recover fully by word of ship’s Doctor. Dead: Warley, William, captain of the Mizzen Mast. Aged 21 years 10 months.

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