Story Excerpt Merry Xmas
I've been trying to post these excerpts in order, as they appear in the Stone Island Sea Stories, but today I'll skip ahead a bit and post the Christmas Celebration Scene from Sailing Dangerous Waters: Another Stone Island Sea Story.
Last year's Christmas lights! Today I put on the one along the roof-line. Haven't done, not sure if we'll do the ones on the bushes this year.
This was the third Christmas celebrated during Island Expedition’s voyage and the second since their arrival on the island. For Pierce, it was his first here, having spent the previous year’s feast, amiably detained in Brunswick, New Guernsey. While he understood perfectly well the effects of being in the Southern Hemisphere, it felt strange to mark the occasion of the Lord’s Birth on a warm and sunny summer’s day. He held long cherished childhood memories of dampness and cold, perhaps even the fall of snow, and the warmth of family, a roaring fire, and a sumptuous meal inside.
That Tuesday was given over entirely to the Festivities of the Season. Religious celebrations occupied much of the morning, conducted by the same Vespican Reformed Episcopalian who had led the memorial services for those lost against Hawke. Pierce attended, not so much out of any spiritual obligation, but out of a sensed social requirement. Yet it was good to once again hear the familiar story of travelers, a lack of lodging, and the Birth in the Stable. How remarkable he thought, that even here the story was so remarkably the same. He noted that a few names, primarily of locations differed, but in all, it was the same story he had heard every year of his early life.
In the afternoon, nearly all of the island’s residents gathered in a large meadow located south of the partially restored village. It was relatively flat and the grass had been cropped close by the sheep that had recently grazed upon it. A game of keggers was organized, reminding Pierce somewhat of rounders, that working class version of cricket. Keggers was the Vespican version of whatever similar contest was played in Kentland. He was not unfamiliar with the game, having witnessed a few matches while in Brunswick.
Play involved a tightly wound, leather-covered ball, roughly the size of a four pound shot. Remembering the few times he had tried to catch one, Pierce thought that it was almost as hard as the comparable cannonball. Play also involved clubs, used to strike the ball and put it into motion, and players running to specified locations. The most common means of designating those points was to use empty kegs, hence the name. Rather than the four points or bases of rounders, this game used five, arranged in pentagonal form.
Participation in the game was fluid and constantly changing. It had started out as British versus Vespican, but as it progressed through the prerequisite eleven settings, that exact method of defining the teams faded away. Nor did the players strenuously confine themselves to the traditional thirteen to a side, and in the back of the sixth setting, no fewer than twenty-one defenders intimidated those presuming to strike. Had those twenty-one not obtained the needed five kills, every one of the twenty-two on the other side would have taken his turn as striker. But once many players had a chance at striker, their interest waned, and they went in search of something to eat or drink. Others, eager to join in the play took their places.
Pierce watched the front of the seventh setting with some interest. Several crewmen from Island Expedition, hands who had experienced the game in New Guernsey, now played on both sides. He noted that most of the British seamen acquitted themselves very well, in spite of their relative unfamiliarity with the sport.
As the eighth setting was about to get underway, a hand bell rang. That being the signal for the Christmas feast proper, players rapidly abandoned the game and the field. Still there were those few nearing their turn as striker who pleaded in vain to let the game continue a while longer.
While this game of keggers had continued throughout the afternoon, Mrs. Packingham and the other ladies of the colony had labored in a makeshift outdoor kitchen to prepare a feast for all. Now the rough tables that sat beneath the trees at the southern end of the meadow groaned with the weight of the meal. Even before the bell stopped ringing, people lined up, jostled for position, and scrambled to obtain dishes and utensils. There were so many people eager to eat in the rustic and rural setting, that it would have been impossible to establish any priority based on rank. It also would have proven impossible to have detailed anyone to serve anyone else. A que of sorts was established and folks moved passed the tables, serving themselves from the heaping bowls, platters, and trays.
While as a naval officer and one trained in a more genteel method of dining, Pierce did not object. Over the years he had come to rather enjoy these occasions, where the emphasis was on eating and not the protocol surrounding it. He obtained a plate and flatware, falling in behind two laughing crewmen. They saw him and became somewhat more somber. “Why now, Captain! You should be first, sir!”
“Aye, sir! Take our place, sir! Not right that we eat first sir.”
“That’s quite all right, Jones. Williams. Aboard, aren’t hands piped to dinner prior to the officers?” asked Pierce. “There is plenty for all, and time for all. I will maintain my present position in the line.”
“Aye sir!”
“Thank you, sir”
The two resumed their conversation and Pierce was alone with his thoughts. He noticed, however, that his presence restrained their spontaneous gaiety. It was a shame that he could not step completely away from being the captain at these times. Even had he chosen not to be in uniform, his status could not be easily ignored by those under his command.
At last he reached the tables groaning with food and piled his plate high. He moved out of the way and stood momentarily, looking for a place to sit. Then he saw Smythe and Doctor Robertson waving to him. “Join us, won’t you, Edward?” said Smythe.
“Why thank you, I will.” Pierce sat down at the rough-hewn table. Soon, others joined them, and with the table filled to capacity, he found that he could concentrate on the meal and not be required to exchange pleasantries with newly arriving diners.
Hope you liked it!
Dave
Last year's Christmas lights! Today I put on the one along the roof-line. Haven't done, not sure if we'll do the ones on the bushes this year.
This was the third Christmas celebrated during Island Expedition’s voyage and the second since their arrival on the island. For Pierce, it was his first here, having spent the previous year’s feast, amiably detained in Brunswick, New Guernsey. While he understood perfectly well the effects of being in the Southern Hemisphere, it felt strange to mark the occasion of the Lord’s Birth on a warm and sunny summer’s day. He held long cherished childhood memories of dampness and cold, perhaps even the fall of snow, and the warmth of family, a roaring fire, and a sumptuous meal inside.
That Tuesday was given over entirely to the Festivities of the Season. Religious celebrations occupied much of the morning, conducted by the same Vespican Reformed Episcopalian who had led the memorial services for those lost against Hawke. Pierce attended, not so much out of any spiritual obligation, but out of a sensed social requirement. Yet it was good to once again hear the familiar story of travelers, a lack of lodging, and the Birth in the Stable. How remarkable he thought, that even here the story was so remarkably the same. He noted that a few names, primarily of locations differed, but in all, it was the same story he had heard every year of his early life.
In the afternoon, nearly all of the island’s residents gathered in a large meadow located south of the partially restored village. It was relatively flat and the grass had been cropped close by the sheep that had recently grazed upon it. A game of keggers was organized, reminding Pierce somewhat of rounders, that working class version of cricket. Keggers was the Vespican version of whatever similar contest was played in Kentland. He was not unfamiliar with the game, having witnessed a few matches while in Brunswick.
Play involved a tightly wound, leather-covered ball, roughly the size of a four pound shot. Remembering the few times he had tried to catch one, Pierce thought that it was almost as hard as the comparable cannonball. Play also involved clubs, used to strike the ball and put it into motion, and players running to specified locations. The most common means of designating those points was to use empty kegs, hence the name. Rather than the four points or bases of rounders, this game used five, arranged in pentagonal form.
Participation in the game was fluid and constantly changing. It had started out as British versus Vespican, but as it progressed through the prerequisite eleven settings, that exact method of defining the teams faded away. Nor did the players strenuously confine themselves to the traditional thirteen to a side, and in the back of the sixth setting, no fewer than twenty-one defenders intimidated those presuming to strike. Had those twenty-one not obtained the needed five kills, every one of the twenty-two on the other side would have taken his turn as striker. But once many players had a chance at striker, their interest waned, and they went in search of something to eat or drink. Others, eager to join in the play took their places.
Pierce watched the front of the seventh setting with some interest. Several crewmen from Island Expedition, hands who had experienced the game in New Guernsey, now played on both sides. He noted that most of the British seamen acquitted themselves very well, in spite of their relative unfamiliarity with the sport.
As the eighth setting was about to get underway, a hand bell rang. That being the signal for the Christmas feast proper, players rapidly abandoned the game and the field. Still there were those few nearing their turn as striker who pleaded in vain to let the game continue a while longer.
While this game of keggers had continued throughout the afternoon, Mrs. Packingham and the other ladies of the colony had labored in a makeshift outdoor kitchen to prepare a feast for all. Now the rough tables that sat beneath the trees at the southern end of the meadow groaned with the weight of the meal. Even before the bell stopped ringing, people lined up, jostled for position, and scrambled to obtain dishes and utensils. There were so many people eager to eat in the rustic and rural setting, that it would have been impossible to establish any priority based on rank. It also would have proven impossible to have detailed anyone to serve anyone else. A que of sorts was established and folks moved passed the tables, serving themselves from the heaping bowls, platters, and trays.
While as a naval officer and one trained in a more genteel method of dining, Pierce did not object. Over the years he had come to rather enjoy these occasions, where the emphasis was on eating and not the protocol surrounding it. He obtained a plate and flatware, falling in behind two laughing crewmen. They saw him and became somewhat more somber. “Why now, Captain! You should be first, sir!”
“Aye, sir! Take our place, sir! Not right that we eat first sir.”
“That’s quite all right, Jones. Williams. Aboard, aren’t hands piped to dinner prior to the officers?” asked Pierce. “There is plenty for all, and time for all. I will maintain my present position in the line.”
“Aye sir!”
“Thank you, sir”
The two resumed their conversation and Pierce was alone with his thoughts. He noticed, however, that his presence restrained their spontaneous gaiety. It was a shame that he could not step completely away from being the captain at these times. Even had he chosen not to be in uniform, his status could not be easily ignored by those under his command.
At last he reached the tables groaning with food and piled his plate high. He moved out of the way and stood momentarily, looking for a place to sit. Then he saw Smythe and Doctor Robertson waving to him. “Join us, won’t you, Edward?” said Smythe.
“Why thank you, I will.” Pierce sat down at the rough-hewn table. Soon, others joined them, and with the table filled to capacity, he found that he could concentrate on the meal and not be required to exchange pleasantries with newly arriving diners.
Hope you liked it!
Dave