The captain liked to visit his son and his woman before battle. The first mate had none of these things, only the crew. Each man was given leave before they made way. He could scarcely believe the missions. The bloody fishbacks had betrayed them after all. The crystals they delivered went toward the summoning of Leviathan, just as he suspected they would. And now, they were assigned to go fight the beast.
Despite the captain's history, he seemed eager to go. The first mate couldn't fathom such a notion, but understood it was his duty to follow the chain of command.
He looked up from his paperwork, more busywork than necessity at this point, when a boy came by carrying a large cake. The first mate could not help but chuckle at the sight of a young boy carrying a cake so large. He took the cake from the boy and paid him his due. Cakes from the Bismark were not cheap, but this was a gift from him to the men who, like him, had only each other. No wives, or families to go home to.
He brought the cake into the common area, and set it on the table, much to the delight of the men. They let out a roar of thanks, and each began to produce something, bottles of rum, or wine, fine aromatic tobaccos. Small things to share with their brothers. Someone pulled out a fiddle, and began to play.
This, the first mate thought, this was what the job was about. It's for your mates and the ones you sail with. They quickly become what you sail for. The fiddler began a familiar melody, and the first mate raised his voice in song.
"In Carteneau the poppies blow
Between the gravestones, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Carteneau, in Carteneau.
And now we lie in Carteneau.
Take up your quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Carteneau, in Carteneau
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Carteneau, in Carteneau."
When the song ended, the room was quiet. Smoke lingered in the air, along with the reminder of why they were all assembled that night, and why they had to do what they must tomorrow.
Despite the captain's history, he seemed eager to go. The first mate couldn't fathom such a notion, but understood it was his duty to follow the chain of command.
He looked up from his paperwork, more busywork than necessity at this point, when a boy came by carrying a large cake. The first mate could not help but chuckle at the sight of a young boy carrying a cake so large. He took the cake from the boy and paid him his due. Cakes from the Bismark were not cheap, but this was a gift from him to the men who, like him, had only each other. No wives, or families to go home to.
He brought the cake into the common area, and set it on the table, much to the delight of the men. They let out a roar of thanks, and each began to produce something, bottles of rum, or wine, fine aromatic tobaccos. Small things to share with their brothers. Someone pulled out a fiddle, and began to play.
This, the first mate thought, this was what the job was about. It's for your mates and the ones you sail with. They quickly become what you sail for. The fiddler began a familiar melody, and the first mate raised his voice in song.
"In Carteneau the poppies blow
Between the gravestones, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Carteneau, in Carteneau.
And now we lie in Carteneau.
Take up your quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Carteneau, in Carteneau
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Carteneau, in Carteneau."
When the song ended, the room was quiet. Smoke lingered in the air, along with the reminder of why they were all assembled that night, and why they had to do what they must tomorrow.
No Gods and Precious Few Heroes