[Gormenghast] "Titus Afloat" (PG)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="tamingthemuse">'s "Prompt 389: Coxswain". Featuring Titus Groan, possibly set in the recently published "Titus Awake", completed by Maeve Gilmore, Mervyn Peake's widow.
A boat of his own making, a canoe he had hollowed out from a tree trunk using burning coals he had dropped into the half column of wood, something he had read about in an adventure novel -- for once, he had found a book to his liking and it had proven more than an afternoon's diversion. And now, he could set out on his own, floating on the water, putting the mainland behind him and striking out on his own, through the archipelago of islands that dotted the lagoon. Perhaps he could find an island on which to dwell, but one he would not settle upon: he would never dwell anywhere for long, if he could help it, after spending his youth shut behind the walls of Gormenghast Castle.
He dropped his small bundles of belongings into the bow of the canoe, set the carven paddle alongside them, then pushed it off the shingle into the water before climbing into the craft. The boat bobbled under him, as he settled down and lifted the paddle to dip it into the water, but it soon righted itself, rising and falling with the waves, surging forward at every stroke of Titus's paddle. He glanced back over his shoulder, long enough to watch the mainland retreat behind him, but not so long that he felt his craft slow down, or so long that he could not keep paddling.
An island loomed up ahead, covered in trees, a sturdy dock visible on the shore: clear signs of habitation. He paddled on, skirting the island, following the current that washed along the edges of the isle.
As he did so, he came upon a pleasure craft with a single sail, a cluster of folk in finely made white garment lounging in chairs upon its deck, while tanned sailors tended the sail and manned the tiller. One young man watched Titus, a look of envy wrinkling his brow and turning down his mouth.
A tall man with a fine face stood up in the pleasure craft, waving his arms above his head. "Ahoy there, young man in the canoe!" he called out, making a megaphone of his hands. "Wave your paddle if you can hear me."
Titus lifted his paddle and waved it over his head before lowering it. "I can hear you well," he called back.
"Come up alongside us: you look lonely out there upon the water," the tall man called out.
"I would but I must stay my course," Titus called back.
"And where does that course lead you?" the tall man asked.
"To wherever the bow of my craft points and where I have not traveled before," Titus replied.
"That sounds like a vague destination," the tall man said. "Would you not rather come and join our party? We have food and good drink on the ship and room enough back at our house. If you need a place in which to rest for the night, we have plenty of space, and a lot of good company."
"I appreciate the invitation, but I would rather stay my course," Titus replied, firmly.
The tall man laughed. "And who are you that's in such a hurry?"
"I am Titus Groan, formerly of Gormenghast," Titus replied.
"I'm Dockery, owner of the Dockery estate, that grand house on the island nearby," the tall man said, tossing his head toward the island and the white painted stone mansion that had appeared through the trees as they drifted with the current.
Titus looked to the house, nodding to it. "Aye, and a fine house it is, but I have had enough of fine houses and the folk who dwell within them. And so, I shall be off on my journey."
Dockery laughed, as if Titus had cracked the most amusing joke ever. "You would pass up a weekend in a fine house for a journey through a dull archipelago? Very well, we shall leave you to your coxswaining, O captain Titus of the canoe." And he made a signal to the man at the tiller to take them along in a hard turn. The wake of the boat splashed up, nearly swamping Titus's canoe, slopping water over the gunwales. Titus managed to brace hard, to keep the canoe from turning over, but the water still washed about him, soaking his clothes.
A boat of his own making, a canoe he had hollowed out from a tree trunk using burning coals he had dropped into the half column of wood, something he had read about in an adventure novel -- for once, he had found a book to his liking and it had proven more than an afternoon's diversion. And now, he could set out on his own, floating on the water, putting the mainland behind him and striking out on his own, through the archipelago of islands that dotted the lagoon. Perhaps he could find an island on which to dwell, but one he would not settle upon: he would never dwell anywhere for long, if he could help it, after spending his youth shut behind the walls of Gormenghast Castle.
He dropped his small bundles of belongings into the bow of the canoe, set the carven paddle alongside them, then pushed it off the shingle into the water before climbing into the craft. The boat bobbled under him, as he settled down and lifted the paddle to dip it into the water, but it soon righted itself, rising and falling with the waves, surging forward at every stroke of Titus's paddle. He glanced back over his shoulder, long enough to watch the mainland retreat behind him, but not so long that he felt his craft slow down, or so long that he could not keep paddling.
An island loomed up ahead, covered in trees, a sturdy dock visible on the shore: clear signs of habitation. He paddled on, skirting the island, following the current that washed along the edges of the isle.
As he did so, he came upon a pleasure craft with a single sail, a cluster of folk in finely made white garment lounging in chairs upon its deck, while tanned sailors tended the sail and manned the tiller. One young man watched Titus, a look of envy wrinkling his brow and turning down his mouth.
A tall man with a fine face stood up in the pleasure craft, waving his arms above his head. "Ahoy there, young man in the canoe!" he called out, making a megaphone of his hands. "Wave your paddle if you can hear me."
Titus lifted his paddle and waved it over his head before lowering it. "I can hear you well," he called back.
"Come up alongside us: you look lonely out there upon the water," the tall man called out.
"I would but I must stay my course," Titus called back.
"And where does that course lead you?" the tall man asked.
"To wherever the bow of my craft points and where I have not traveled before," Titus replied.
"That sounds like a vague destination," the tall man said. "Would you not rather come and join our party? We have food and good drink on the ship and room enough back at our house. If you need a place in which to rest for the night, we have plenty of space, and a lot of good company."
"I appreciate the invitation, but I would rather stay my course," Titus replied, firmly.
The tall man laughed. "And who are you that's in such a hurry?"
"I am Titus Groan, formerly of Gormenghast," Titus replied.
"I'm Dockery, owner of the Dockery estate, that grand house on the island nearby," the tall man said, tossing his head toward the island and the white painted stone mansion that had appeared through the trees as they drifted with the current.
Titus looked to the house, nodding to it. "Aye, and a fine house it is, but I have had enough of fine houses and the folk who dwell within them. And so, I shall be off on my journey."
Dockery laughed, as if Titus had cracked the most amusing joke ever. "You would pass up a weekend in a fine house for a journey through a dull archipelago? Very well, we shall leave you to your coxswaining, O captain Titus of the canoe." And he made a signal to the man at the tiller to take them along in a hard turn. The wake of the boat splashed up, nearly swamping Titus's canoe, slopping water over the gunwales. Titus managed to brace hard, to keep the canoe from turning over, but the water still washed about him, soaking his clothes.