James T. Kirk

Contrary to the general populous, he was not a pirate, but a merchant mariner. Which was to say, he plied a legal sea trade, and lived most of his life on the waters. Which was kind of funny, really. He got seasick for the first couple days, inevitably.

Regardless of this, second mate Montgomery Scott of the schooner Lady Grey out of Cardiff figured that this would be, likely, an uneventful voyage.

[[OOC: And because his mun adores the merchant mariners and gets to play with the sea briefly. Har! Parrrrrrrty on.]]

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Leonard stretched appreciatively as he stepped out onto the deck of the Lady Grey, feeling oddly at home in spite of the crick in his neck he'd acquired from sleeping in the hammock below decks.

It wasn't that he was used to a life of luxury, not anymore, and frankly it was a godsend that their small acting troupe, The Lady of the Buick had managed to gain passage on this ship to the colonies, where they hoped to entertain bored diplomats and their wives.

(Though none of them were ladies, of course, the literary reference had convinced Leonard that naming themselves thus, after Bill had gotten this startlingly bad idea one morning on the road, was, perhaps not so bad an idea after all. Or maybe it was merely that he could never deny Bill anything, no matter how silly the request.)

The sea was calm, the skies blue, but the wind had picked up a fair bit since last night, and they should make decent speed if it continued like this. Leonard found himself surprised just how much he had missed this, the way the deck swayed beneath his feet, the creak of the wooden boards, the salty breeze.

His father, when we was young, had insisted that he join the Navy, a lowly-ranked officer there himself, and committed to the service, so Leonard had spent many of his formative years as a midshipman.

But that life had never been for him - for one, he couldn't abide violence, although he had learned how to fight, grudgingly. From as early on as he could remember, he had found himself drawn to stories, to poetry, to the powerful tales that playwrights wove, to the spell actors wove around the crowds watching them.

So when he had come of age, finally, with his training almost complete, he had resigned his commission, much to his father's displeasure, dissolved his engagement to the pretty Sandy, and joined a travelling group of actors to learn from them. The life of an actor was hard, and often poor, but he had never been happier than when he stood on the stage, immersed in Shakespeare, the crowd hanging on to every word that fell from his lips.

He hummed a ditty under his breath (http://www.megaupload.com/?d=8TYD0ZQI) as he traversed the deck, catching sight of the second mate who had secured them this passage.

"Lovely day for it," he commented to the man beside him.

Edited Date: 2009-09-19 05:17 pm (UTC)

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country-doc.livejournal.com

[[OOC - Hijacking in true pirate fashion just to say OMG I LOVE THAT SONG <3 <3 <3]]

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[OOC - IT SEEMED SO RIDICULOUSLY APPROPRIATE, I JUST HAD TO SHARE IT! <3 :D]

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DeForest ventured out onto the desk with some hesitation. He had been suffering from continued bouts of seasickness ever since he, Bill and Len had joined the Lady Grey at port. DeForest had never much been one for travelling on the open waters, but Leonard had insisted that acting work would be more plentiful in the colonies, and that they would be better able to earn their bread out there. Bill had, of course, agreed with Leonard, and DeForest had been left with no choice but to follow them to the waters if he wanted to remain in the troupe, which he did.

It wasn't as if he had anything keeping him back home, his girl, Carolyn, having died a number of years previously, and he had no other family to speak of. He had allied himself more closely to the stage after Carolyn's death finding a place, and friendship in this small troupe. He had sought solace in the flowing words of the playrights, and had found contentment in losing himself in ever different parts, in ever different settings; a different man every night.

He wasn't unhappy with his choices, or where he had ended up. Acting was everything, and all at once, everything he needed.

He just wished it didn't involve having to go on a boat. On the sea.

Thankfully the sea was calm now, and DeForest had judged it time to take in the sea air, and emerge from the depths of ship. He spied Leonard walking about the deck, and headed over to him, swaying with the swell of the ocean, and bumping into the side rail as he tried to find his sea legs.

"Leonard!" he called out.

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"De!" Leonard smiled as his friend approached, still a little wobbly on his feet. It wasn't that Leonard didn't feel sympathetic to his plight, the first few weeks he'd spent on sea he had been more or less permanently attached to the rails whilst hurling the contents of his stomach overboard, much to the amusement of his fellow cadets.

Nevertheless, DeForest looked so out of place, he couldn't hold back the grin.

"Sleep well?"

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DeForest reached Leonard and opened his mouth to speak, just as the ship pitched a little, causing DeForest to grab the side rail in panic, gripping it tightly.

Upon reailsing that the ship wasn't really going anywhere, and that his reaction was incredibly over the top for what had actually occured, he relaxed his grip and smiled sheepishly at Leonard.

"I am still endevouring to get used to this, Len! I did not sleep particularly well; the rolling of the ship, and the snores of the others disturbed my slumbers. What I wouldn't do for a good night's rest..."

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"You'll get used to that, don't worry. Look at it this way," he slung an arm around De's shoulders, tilting him backwards a little so he could look up to where Leonard was pointing, "at least you don't have to climb all the way up there, galeforce winds whipping sea and rain into your face whilst you're fighting with tackle that's heavy enough to blow you aboard if you miss a step. That was my introduction to this, way back when. Now this," he motioned to the sea all around them, "this is smooth sailing. This is pleasant, trust me on that."

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DeForest followed Leonard's gaze up to the top of the tall mast, the sails and rigging blowing gently in the breeze. He had no desire at all to climb up there, and the desire would have been even less in a howling gale, wind lashing at the ship, ropes swinging madly from side to side. It was not a pleasant thought, and DeForest gave a small shudder at the idea.

"I would not relish that task," he agreed, turning to smile at Len. "But I will agree that this," he gestured out to the calm expanse of blue, "is not an unpleasant experience. I just wish the experience was not quite so changeable."

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"And there you would have but one of my many reasons for abandoning a career in the Navy," Leonard agreed.

"Let's hope this fair weather stays with us for a while, then."

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"Well, I for one am glad you chose to abandon that career." De smiled warmly. Circumstances had bought the three actors together, and DeForest would not change the outcome for the world.

"Fair weather, and a safe trip..." said De, staring out at the horizon. He had heard horror stories about sea monsters, huge maelstroms and pirate attacks before they had boarded the ship, and they had not reassured him for the long voyage ahead - on top of his seasickness, DeForest was also perpetually worried that, well, something bad was going to happen.

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There were two ways to rate as a mate: Through the cabin windows, or through the hawsepipe. The first meant an apprenticeship and four years wherein very young men were expected to be taught by the captains how to become officers, and the second was by working up from the foredeck to the aft cabin. Neither was easy, but the latter was harder.

Second mate itself was not particularly a comfortable place for most; in that position, he had one foot on the foredeck and one on the quarterdeck, and was expected to work just like the rest of the seamen, yet not actually be one of their comrades. The increase in rank and pay often meant giving up at least a survivalistic sort of camaraderie, and yet did not insure that the first mate and captain would accord any more respect.

In other words, it was not the most comfortable place to be on most ships, but the aforementioned second mate (dubbed Scotty in some distant past) had gotten rather lucky.

He'd started as an orphan, wherein it was a fair bet he would not have likely made it to adulthood, except he had a rather uncanny ability to survive. One part dogged determination, one part intelligence. He got a job in Belfast's shipyards, in a rather roundabout way. He might have stayed there, even -- he liked working with his hands and was good at it -- except he'd fallen madly in love with the schooner he was now on.

From there, it had been three or four years of hard work to try to find a way aboard her; he took to sea in order to get himself proper seatime experience, starting right down as an ordinary seaman and working his way up, picking up whatever education he could from whomever would provide it.

Now, at twenty-two, he was second mate aboard this schooner he had helped build quite some time ago. It still meant no better food, nor more sleep, and barely any authority, but the Grey was truly his home, and the sea his only country.

Therefore, he had no trouble agreeing with Nimoy, looking off into the blue expanses thoughtfully, "Aye, it quite is. A good wind on th' quarter, and a followin' sea."

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"Should make up for some of the time we lost in that clock calm yesterday," Leonard agreed, smiling.

"I've been meaning to thank you for putting in a good word with your Captain for us - not sure how else we would've managed to find passage, it's so expensive these days. Let me know if there's anything I can do on deck, if you need another pair of hands? It's been a while since I've reefed a sail, but some things you don't forget easily."

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"If it so happens we do, I'll let ye know." Scotty braced on a shroud against a gust heeling the Grey leeward, automatically. "How're ye findin' the voyage?"

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"Oddly nostalgic, much to my surprise," Leonard responded. "Then again, just wait until we hit not so smooth sailing, and I bet you I'll remember in an instant why I used to hate being at sea," he added, with a wry smile.

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