(Untitled)

[politestpirate]

The weather is not cooperating for ship repairs. Particularly when the area you have been working on is up in the rigging. (It is one thing to go up there when needed- only a fool goes up there when he does not.)

Thus, Wellard is at a table, comparing things from a book on the weather- the section on atmospheric layers, and a book on early

Comments

[msmartha]

Martha has a book, as well, though it's a work of fiction and nod a technical one. Still, she spares a smile for the man at the table as she passes by, slowing.

[politestpirate]

Wellard gives her a nod and smile back, looking up from the chart of cloud heights- (finally, something applicable and a bit understandable from what he knows already). Her book gets a curious glance, which soon becomes much more intent.

"Your pardon- but may I ask what that's about?"

[msmartha]

Martha looks a little surprised at the comment, but not too surprised to stop.

"Tis about a man who works a ferry boat in the jungle. It's quite interesting."

Even given Mary's commentary on Natives.

[politestpirate]

Which is quite better than the 'Dark' of which Wellard was thinking of, certainly. He blinks, and nods slowly.

"Ah- I see. Does it mention which jungle?"

[msmartha]

"Nay, though our teacher says that it's meant to be the Congo."

A shy smile.

"That's in Africa."

[politestpirate]

He smiles faintly, and nods. "Which I've not had a chance to see, myself. Yet. I know the West Indies a bit more, though I've been over to the East Indies and Asia, thankfully."

"And you're- from England, I would hazard, Miss?"

[msmartha]

"Aye, Yorkshire."

She looks him over, almost as if she can't believe him.

"Tha's been to those places?"

[politestpirate]

Wellard blinks, and nods slowly. "Yorkshire."

"Yes- at least for a little while." He smiles.

"Your pardon, again. My name is Wellard, Henry Wellard. Formerly of His Majesty's Ship the Renown, of 1802."

[msmartha]

Martha puts her book on the table, grinning before falling into a light curtsey.

"Martha Sowerby's my name. Though from a far bit in tha future."

She stands again, trying to pull herself tall.

"Tis a pleasure to meet thee."

[politestpirate]

Wellard hurriedly stands, and gives Martha a bow back. "Quite nice to meet you as well, Miss Sowerby."

"About how much farther, the?"

[msmartha]

Her face falls into a sort of frown and there's a tip of pink of her tongue sticking between her lips as she counts.

"About one hundred, I should think."

[politestpirate]

"... I think I may know some people from around then. Maybe." Finally, after a few long moments.

[msmartha]

"Does tha know Miss Mary? Or Dickon, mayhap?"

[politestpirate]

Wellard grins. "Miss Mary Lennox, yes. I do believe I've also met her cousin, when she brought him here."

[msmartha]

Her smile widens to match his.

"Colin, aye. I work for Master Archibald of Mistelthwaite Manor, where they both stay. I mind them a bit."

[politestpirate]

Wellard bites his lip. "Archibald Craven, of Mistelthwaite Manor, Yorkshire?"