Is there something I can send you from across the sea
Who: Badou Nails and Gilbert Nightray
What: An unexpected meeting on unexpected high seas.
Where: Aboard the S.S. Saturnia, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the Sargasso Sea.
When: October 14, mid-day. (Forward dated.)
Rating and Warnings: PG?
The first time Badou saw it, he thought that it was seaweed. There was, after all, no shortage of seaweed in these waters. Great broad mats of it floating across the surface, carried on the waves.
In fact, Badou had been so certain he'd been looking at seaweed that he really couldn't have said for sure whether his eyes had momentarily traveled away, or the seaweed had drifted aside, or whether, maybe, it had just woven itself into the figure of a man. It somehow seemed like it must have been the latter because at first he thought he'd looked right at it without realizing what he was seeing as he stood leaning against the railing on the steamship's main deck.
He took a drag on his cigarette--strictly speaking, it wasn't the sort of thing you were meant to do on deck. They had a room for that, after all. But the sun was bright and warm, sinking low towards the water's flat horizon, and the sea air was fresh, and Badou found that he quite liked the experience of being on a ship like this day after day, the adventurous openness of so much possibility and the world wide open ahead.
This was the fourth day since setting sail from Naples, and all in all, Badou thought the seafaring life agreed with him. Well, anyway, it had done after he was free of that unfortunate bout of seasickness which had plagued him the first day or so, and the fact that maybe he was starting to get just a little bored.
It was amazing how that worked, wasn't it. Between his trip from Istanbul to Italy, the pandemonium of his arrival in Naples, scrambling to arrange his passage to America, and trying sort his paperwork with the Consulate General, he thought that he'd be more than happy as a clam with nothing to do for a whole week. Now, there he was barely past the half way mark and wishing vaguely that something would happen.
Ironic, wasn't it, how sometimes a guy got just the thing he didn't even know he was looking for:
Badou's gaze fell on the seaweed patch drifting steadily closer to the ship's hull, and suddenly he stood up straight.
"Hey." It came out as a murmur the first time, directed at no one in particular and probably only audible to himself.
"Hey. HEYYY!!" He turned his head, made a quick circuit of the deck, scanning for a uniform--for anyone--to alert. On the deck above, a sailor's head peered over at the racket, catching Badou's eye. He waved his arms frantically pointing and gesturing, "HEY! DOWN HERE! LOOK OVER THERE! THERE'S A MAN IN THE WATER!!" Which all dissolved into a cacophony of movement and voices, shouts of "Man Overboard!" and sailors running to and fro, and then finally the waterlogged body being hauled up on deck.
Badou wasn't sure of everything that happened in the chaos that ensued, or just how he'd come to be standing outside the closed door of the ship's medical bay, the ship's surgeon tending to the shipwrecked man inside. But there he was, waiting, almost as though he'd been instructed to (though he couldn't remember anyone saying so specifically), bemused by the knowledge that he'd probably saved a man's life.
He wasn't actually waiting for any kind of thanks or acknowledgment, but simply because it seemed like...well, like the thing to do, so he was caught a bit off guard when the door opened and the doctor emerged from it.
There was an awkward silence, a stumbling over words, and yet somehow Badou found himself pointed into the room, directed towards the berth where the stranger had been left to rest.
Well... Badou thought uncomfortably as he made his over, There's worse conversation starters than 'What the hell were you doing floating around in the ocean,' right? He had to admit, he was more than a little curious.
What: An unexpected meeting on unexpected high seas.
Where: Aboard the S.S. Saturnia, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the Sargasso Sea.
When: October 14, mid-day. (Forward dated.)
Rating and Warnings: PG?
The first time Badou saw it, he thought that it was seaweed. There was, after all, no shortage of seaweed in these waters. Great broad mats of it floating across the surface, carried on the waves.
In fact, Badou had been so certain he'd been looking at seaweed that he really couldn't have said for sure whether his eyes had momentarily traveled away, or the seaweed had drifted aside, or whether, maybe, it had just woven itself into the figure of a man. It somehow seemed like it must have been the latter because at first he thought he'd looked right at it without realizing what he was seeing as he stood leaning against the railing on the steamship's main deck.
He took a drag on his cigarette--strictly speaking, it wasn't the sort of thing you were meant to do on deck. They had a room for that, after all. But the sun was bright and warm, sinking low towards the water's flat horizon, and the sea air was fresh, and Badou found that he quite liked the experience of being on a ship like this day after day, the adventurous openness of so much possibility and the world wide open ahead.
This was the fourth day since setting sail from Naples, and all in all, Badou thought the seafaring life agreed with him. Well, anyway, it had done after he was free of that unfortunate bout of seasickness which had plagued him the first day or so, and the fact that maybe he was starting to get just a little bored.
It was amazing how that worked, wasn't it. Between his trip from Istanbul to Italy, the pandemonium of his arrival in Naples, scrambling to arrange his passage to America, and trying sort his paperwork with the Consulate General, he thought that he'd be more than happy as a clam with nothing to do for a whole week. Now, there he was barely past the half way mark and wishing vaguely that something would happen.
Ironic, wasn't it, how sometimes a guy got just the thing he didn't even know he was looking for:
Badou's gaze fell on the seaweed patch drifting steadily closer to the ship's hull, and suddenly he stood up straight.
"Hey." It came out as a murmur the first time, directed at no one in particular and probably only audible to himself.
"Hey. HEYYY!!" He turned his head, made a quick circuit of the deck, scanning for a uniform--for anyone--to alert. On the deck above, a sailor's head peered over at the racket, catching Badou's eye. He waved his arms frantically pointing and gesturing, "HEY! DOWN HERE! LOOK OVER THERE! THERE'S A MAN IN THE WATER!!" Which all dissolved into a cacophony of movement and voices, shouts of "Man Overboard!" and sailors running to and fro, and then finally the waterlogged body being hauled up on deck.
Badou wasn't sure of everything that happened in the chaos that ensued, or just how he'd come to be standing outside the closed door of the ship's medical bay, the ship's surgeon tending to the shipwrecked man inside. But there he was, waiting, almost as though he'd been instructed to (though he couldn't remember anyone saying so specifically), bemused by the knowledge that he'd probably saved a man's life.
He wasn't actually waiting for any kind of thanks or acknowledgment, but simply because it seemed like...well, like the thing to do, so he was caught a bit off guard when the door opened and the doctor emerged from it.
There was an awkward silence, a stumbling over words, and yet somehow Badou found himself pointed into the room, directed towards the berth where the stranger had been left to rest.
Well... Badou thought uncomfortably as he made his over, There's worse conversation starters than 'What the hell were you doing floating around in the ocean,' right? He had to admit, he was more than a little curious.