Life at Sea and Destiny: Chapter I
SAINT IVES HARBOR
Life is as varied in St. Ives as the shores art to the open seas, whether they differ by race, or by their faith, or by what their skills art worth, for ‘em to eke out a decent living from it. And for being close to the sea answers most of what their talents wouldst be. The town itself has a legion of talented landlubbers, and as for most of whose skills rely entirely on the sea, their homes art as far off from St. Ives, coming in from all parts of England, with some venturing from foreign lands, and for those who art apt enough to master the English language, assure their livelihood and a place to stay, calling St. Ives as their home away from home. Albeit that the town depends on the sea for its very existence, being historically bounded in its rich path, hereditarily or by other means. Nevertheless, the town’s course goes hand-in-hand with the sea, for one cannot do without the other. Thus, their ties unsevered as history will dictate its course into the future, as it has done so in St. Ives’ past.
St. Ives is a seaside town, set in the county of Cornwall, resting in the southeastern part of England. It became known around the fifth century, whence in the days of yore, the town was granted a market by King Henry VIII in 1487. Under Queen Elizabeth’s rule, skirmishes with Eireland, and rumors of war with Spain, wrapped in expansionism, marketh much ado for the featureless town’s simple blend with the nostalgic sea as its scenic charm, along with the town folks’ natural laid-back feel, boosts its appeal of welcoming warmth, albeit that nighttime life bears its own path that is well taken as the men of the sea do naught, fair so well getting use to a landlubber’s way of life. Thus, they act out with the help of a swig of ale that starts its course towards the partied setting of a night in St. Ives and quenches its thirst with a sense of belonging. Taverns and pubs that line ‘emselves nigh the harbor deliver a wake-up call to the rest of the locals till the dawn hours of the next day.
The merchant ship ‘Cornwall’ was first bought by its named county during the days of plenty, but a year later was auctioned off to a scheming ne’er-do-well during desperate times. It hast since been anchored off the harbor but hast been anchored at St. Ives dockside for the past three days, preparing to shove off to the high seas of which its heading lies in question. Nevertheless, its crew hadst readied the ship within those days. The nightlife weaves another tale of the hearty sort. Albeit their days are numbered, and soon they’ll be cast out to sea, which means that their nighttime party heartiness will be set at the down low, for their last night ashore. The ship’s complement hast drunk their last ale for the night, and for the rest of the night be left for games that losers to drown their sorrows, and winners to sleep off their smirks. ‘Ere the dawn, the hired Wallace, Cornwall’s first mate, makes his rounds onboard the ship, ere the crew’s retrieval.
Liberty ploys the faced, fragile armor of certain due, be stripped bare amidst the kerchiefed, weightless pose, that amiss facial silhouettes, their search for common sense. A lady, gracefully gestures a pardon to the speechless sort whose venturing eyes shy away from her gaze. Some trumpeted voice surrenders to the air, “Ahoy, my captain, ‘tis I, Wallace, thy first mate, my captain.” “What presence thee here, for my interest piques? Speak, my good man.” “Our ship is anchored, and we need thee to weigh its anchor and relieve the port of its burden at St. Ives.” “Let us part from this place and make haste a tale to keep.” “Pardon, my lady, for time is fleeting, and I am in dire need to be at St. Ives harbor.” Wallace had hired a man with a team of horses to pull his carriage, which would send ‘em on their way. “Tally Ho!” The horseman said, and away they did, until they were stationed, dockside of their ship.
“Ahoy, ship’s crew. Every man to presence ‘emselves, topside on the deck, quick
about it! Stand ready to be inspected by our captain!” “First Mate Wallace, sir; all of the ship’s crew stands ready to receive thee!” The captain speaks, “Most of thee knoweth my name, and to the sum of thee that knoweth naught, heareth me that I be heard! My name is Captain Allister Cavanaugh and I hail from these parts, of which thou knowest it is as foreign to thee. Nevertheless, marketh well of thee, ‘tis place for which our sails most oft’ be berth, for wouldst be its home. First mate Wallace! Bringeth thyself and those few that thou hast trusted, to the map room below; and now thou goeth posthaste our tale to keep!” As the men gathered ‘emselves into the map room, wait was in want till the captain entered within, closing the door behind him. The captain looked all around the room’s gamut to see none hid, and those present, to be trusted.
“All ye men knoweth of what ails yond our shores. Our embattled queen bears Eire land to our east, and King Phillip’s armada peacefully anchored off Spanish shores, or thereabouts off from France, or sighted sails across the Atlantic. Nay, peace be damned, whence beguiling eyes that layeth with a wolf, and with a sheep-like neck that bobs about every which way. Soon their ears are attuned to words of intrigues that immediate parting is lacking, and someday, risk will bring ‘em to stand ‘ere the hangman. So, I say unto thee if there’s a low light to be found that nigh thee, turn ye self around, and marketh high, and see the ground that nigh thee, that none be found lurking. Let the life at rope’s end be theirs and naught yours. Heed what I say, for these art desperate times, and thee must take desperate measures, for the axe needs naught be sharpened, and the noose needs naught be strung up.”
The captain was on the topside and addressed the whole crew. “Ahoy, all ye men within ear’s length of my voice. Take up the anchor and pull on it, my heartiness, and shame naught thy girth. Helmsman, steer clear of the dockside and marketh clear, ‘ere the sails be set. Men climb up the yardarm and tend the sails and wait for the order to unfurl ‘em, then tie ‘em down lest they art marketh a wandering fool, flapping freely about, and striking down those true fools that marketh the folly be so! Once we clear the harbor, we’ll set our course due southeast till we reach the channel. Men assigned to keep watch up yon the crow’s nest, be constant and bear witness to the sights that thine eyes may set upon thereabouts, and dare naught surrender thine eyes to rest, or thou will truly swing for it! To the sentries who bear arms and bear witness to the ship’s complement, and in particular, to the crow’s nest, be certain that their vigil is constant and true, for the noose notes no rank, whence failure is afoot.”
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