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barefoot_bard) wrote2010-01-11 12:25 am
barefoot_bard) wrote2010-01-11 12:25 am
Entry tags:
Joseph Dasher, Boy
Title: Joseph Dasher, Boy
Rating: K (Suitable for all ages)
Disclaimers: I don't own Master and Commander or any of the characters appearing in the movie. Neither do I own any of the novels.
Original pen-date: 20 December 2009
Summary: A boy goes to join the crew of HMS Surprise
Author's Note: Short bit of one-shot. I wanted it to be longer, but the plot bunny ran away to the safety of the Aubreyad.
The last of the auburn locks drifted lazily to the bare dirt floor, to lie amid the other scattered mounds of hair, all cut as neatly as possible from the boy's head. Neat was a generous description, however. The boy's remaining hair hung raggedly, ranging in length from close-shorn to barely-cut. But most of the long trailing mess had been hacked away and that was the desired outcome. With the haircut finished, the boy slipped off the valise that had served as a bench and reached up immediately to toy with his newly-shortened hair.
"That should be good enough for the Navy," an older boy said, putting away the dull-bladed scissors he had used to cut the younger lad's hair. "Assuming they'll even take a runt like you."
"They will!" The younger boy stated petulantly, a determined scowl on his face. "Papa was a sailor, and I'll be a sailor too."
The older boy shrugged. "If you say. Cut along now. I ain't gonna be seen nowhere near a Navy ship. Being pressed ain't for me!"
With a shrug, the younger boy padded toward the tattered blanket that served as a door. He had not expected to be accompanied to the docks. In a way, it was better. Having nobody on hand to see him off meant no chance to disgrace himself. Not, the boy thought, that there was anybody he would want to see him off. Not anymore.
As they had been every other day he had ventured this close to the sea, the docks were noisy and bustling. People pushed, shoved, and chattered with cheerful, forceful abandon. The boy had learned quickly how to navigate the crowds of adults and had little trouble winding his way through the forest of billowing skirts and loose trousers. There was no shortage of ships in the harbour, of all sizes and descriptions, but the boy was only interested in those ships that were anchored farther out in the bay. The Navy.
His father had been in the Navy. The boy remembered little about him, other than always seeing a blue jacket and hearing endless stories about far away places. That had been enough to plant the seed of interest and now that he was ten, the boy was determined to enter his father's profession. It did not matter to him that his father had been killed at a place called St Vincent. There. The boy came to a stop on the edge of the street and stared out at the ship-filled harbour. Somewhere amidst that gently-bobbing forest of hulls and anchor cables was a vessel he had endlessly about. He rose up onto his tip-toes and peered eagerly at every craft he could. Surprise. He knew nothing more of her than the name and reputation, but that was enough. Somewhere out there was his future.
A chattering, laughing group of sailors came strolling out of the crowd, their blue jackets and white trousers making them stand out against the more drab colours of the bustle. The boy stared at them. They might have been the most wonderous beings on earth, such was the awe he felt upon seeing them. Their tarred hats all bore trailing black ribbons, which were nearly as long as the plaited pigtails each man wore. It seemed that they were heading for a boat moored alongside a dock, not far from where the boy was standing.
" 'Scuse me," the boy said, hurrying forward before the sailors could reach the dock. "Beg pardon, sirs. I'm looking to join a ship, sirs."
The sailors stopped, regarding the boy with surprise. Suddenly, he felt horribly shy. His face went pink and he looked down at his bare feet in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.
"Wantin' to join a ship, eh?" One of the sailors said.
The boy looked up and nodded bashfully. He wanted to join a ship, more than anything. "Yes sir."
Several sailors laughed, which only worsened the boy's mortification. The man who had spoken to him ignored the others. "What's your name, boy?"
"Dasher, sir. Joesph Dasher."
The sailor looked thoughtful. "Dasher, eh? I'm Bonden. I reckon we could do with another boy aboard. We lost a couple last cruise, an' all. 'Pends on what the cap'n says, mind. But come you with us, an' we'll see what can be done."
Joy swelled up in Joseph Dasher's breast. He was going to sea! The sailor's warning passed completely by, unheeded. He all but skipped after the sailors to their boat and it was only with an effort that he was able to sit still. What lay before him was all a mystery, but he had eyes only for the ship that the boat was rowing toward. It was not even certain that he would be accepted by the captain, whoever he was - oh let him not turn the boy away! - but such a concern never entered Dasher's mind. He was going to sea.
Rating: K (Suitable for all ages)
Disclaimers: I don't own Master and Commander or any of the characters appearing in the movie. Neither do I own any of the novels.
Original pen-date: 20 December 2009
Summary: A boy goes to join the crew of HMS Surprise
Author's Note: Short bit of one-shot. I wanted it to be longer, but the plot bunny ran away to the safety of the Aubreyad.
The last of the auburn locks drifted lazily to the bare dirt floor, to lie amid the other scattered mounds of hair, all cut as neatly as possible from the boy's head. Neat was a generous description, however. The boy's remaining hair hung raggedly, ranging in length from close-shorn to barely-cut. But most of the long trailing mess had been hacked away and that was the desired outcome. With the haircut finished, the boy slipped off the valise that had served as a bench and reached up immediately to toy with his newly-shortened hair.
"That should be good enough for the Navy," an older boy said, putting away the dull-bladed scissors he had used to cut the younger lad's hair. "Assuming they'll even take a runt like you."
"They will!" The younger boy stated petulantly, a determined scowl on his face. "Papa was a sailor, and I'll be a sailor too."
The older boy shrugged. "If you say. Cut along now. I ain't gonna be seen nowhere near a Navy ship. Being pressed ain't for me!"
With a shrug, the younger boy padded toward the tattered blanket that served as a door. He had not expected to be accompanied to the docks. In a way, it was better. Having nobody on hand to see him off meant no chance to disgrace himself. Not, the boy thought, that there was anybody he would want to see him off. Not anymore.
As they had been every other day he had ventured this close to the sea, the docks were noisy and bustling. People pushed, shoved, and chattered with cheerful, forceful abandon. The boy had learned quickly how to navigate the crowds of adults and had little trouble winding his way through the forest of billowing skirts and loose trousers. There was no shortage of ships in the harbour, of all sizes and descriptions, but the boy was only interested in those ships that were anchored farther out in the bay. The Navy.
His father had been in the Navy. The boy remembered little about him, other than always seeing a blue jacket and hearing endless stories about far away places. That had been enough to plant the seed of interest and now that he was ten, the boy was determined to enter his father's profession. It did not matter to him that his father had been killed at a place called St Vincent. There. The boy came to a stop on the edge of the street and stared out at the ship-filled harbour. Somewhere amidst that gently-bobbing forest of hulls and anchor cables was a vessel he had endlessly about. He rose up onto his tip-toes and peered eagerly at every craft he could. Surprise. He knew nothing more of her than the name and reputation, but that was enough. Somewhere out there was his future.
A chattering, laughing group of sailors came strolling out of the crowd, their blue jackets and white trousers making them stand out against the more drab colours of the bustle. The boy stared at them. They might have been the most wonderous beings on earth, such was the awe he felt upon seeing them. Their tarred hats all bore trailing black ribbons, which were nearly as long as the plaited pigtails each man wore. It seemed that they were heading for a boat moored alongside a dock, not far from where the boy was standing.
" 'Scuse me," the boy said, hurrying forward before the sailors could reach the dock. "Beg pardon, sirs. I'm looking to join a ship, sirs."
The sailors stopped, regarding the boy with surprise. Suddenly, he felt horribly shy. His face went pink and he looked down at his bare feet in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.
"Wantin' to join a ship, eh?" One of the sailors said.
The boy looked up and nodded bashfully. He wanted to join a ship, more than anything. "Yes sir."
Several sailors laughed, which only worsened the boy's mortification. The man who had spoken to him ignored the others. "What's your name, boy?"
"Dasher, sir. Joesph Dasher."
The sailor looked thoughtful. "Dasher, eh? I'm Bonden. I reckon we could do with another boy aboard. We lost a couple last cruise, an' all. 'Pends on what the cap'n says, mind. But come you with us, an' we'll see what can be done."
Joy swelled up in Joseph Dasher's breast. He was going to sea! The sailor's warning passed completely by, unheeded. He all but skipped after the sailors to their boat and it was only with an effort that he was able to sit still. What lay before him was all a mystery, but he had eyes only for the ship that the boat was rowing toward. It was not even certain that he would be accepted by the captain, whoever he was - oh let him not turn the boy away! - but such a concern never entered Dasher's mind. He was going to sea.
no subject
(Your plotbunnies are being productive lately. I think mine have gone into hiding. Bother them.)
no subject
(They have. If you need plot bunnies... I have plenty to spare.)