Chapter. 1 -- Scribbler's Corner

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, [3], 4 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 16:39:57 01/23/02 Wed
Author: Vito
Subject: Chapter. 1
In reply to: Vito 's message, "Of Guns and Canvas" on 14:11:55 01/22/02 Tue

The Samurai looked steadily at his enemy, a mere ten feet away cowering over nondescript canvas sailcloth struck down on deck. The prey was a brownish thing, silent and motionless for the most part save the ever so slight roll of the deck below it.

The Samurai didn�t smile, didn�t breath, didn�t even acknowledge the world around him. All his force and power of mind was focused on this single object. Slowly, slowly, the Samurai�s hand came up. Up and up until it reached his shoulder, where the long sword had been stowed over his back. He gripped the black leather hilt, and he coolly drew his blade forth.

It was a single-edged Japanese weapon, called a Katana. On the remarkably elegant blade was the image of a curling serpent traversing the entire length from stem to stern. The hilt, possessing no wrist guard, was thick and soft. Leather from a slaughtered goat made up the grip, yet the pummel and the small hump just before the blade were carved from Ironwood, and painted jet black. The pummel had a small carving of an asp�s head upon it, but besides that the hilt had no decoration. A typical Katana.

The Samurai gently maneuvered the sword in several elegant but not extravagant motions, and he then let his arm drop to his side. The target hadn�t moved, of course, but this was a time for battle, not examination. The Samurai strafed diagonally, and then with a practiced motion he leapt upon a stay going straight up the mast. He held himself there for several milliseconds that seemed like hours to those watching. Yet to the Samurai, it was as easy as if he had practiced it several hundred times, which he did.

Using his enormous leg power, the Samurai leapt up and over the head of his adversary, brought his curved sword around, and cleaved the target�s head neatly off his shoulders. The crowd was in awe at the spectacle, but they joined together enough to give out a supportive �Hazay!� for the Samurai.

This act may seem barbarous, but it was by no means what it appeared to be. The prey, as was referred to, was a smock and pantaloons sewn neatly together by the percer, and then filled with straw. Several other men had been obliged to rig up the manikin by a tether round a round bag filled with straw as well, so it looked rather like a scarecrow. And the Samurai was no Samurai at all, though he dearly longed to be among their rank. The �Samurai� was actually Shi-un Jax, or Garret as those in the gunroom called him. Garret was Japanese, and being drawn from his homeland by the amazing technology of the west, he had traveled all the way to China, where a British mission had taught him English, French, mathematics, and other necessary knowledge. Never the less, Garret had lived long enough in his homeland to learn the Great Arts, swordsmanship, martial arts, and meditation.

After leaving the mission, Garret took to the sea, learning the trade of the sailor and becoming most proficient. He was now Boson of the ship he was currently on. Boson was the highest position he had yet served, and he cherished it dearly.

He stepped back upon the quarterdeck, bowed to the men of his watch, and resumed his duty.

The �Samurai� was currently assisting with the rigging of a new maintop for the ship, H.M.S Spectre. The Spectre was a fine sailor, and an even better one because of her captain. The captain stood near the wheel, still enveloped by the accuracy, elegance, and pure fluid motion of his Boson as he had slain the Scarecrow rigged to the yardarm. After recovering, he personally congratulated Garret in his deep, confident tone.

�Wondrous, a truly amazing feat Mr. Jax!� He said, clapping the boson on the shoulder.

Garret spoke perfect English, but he contented himself with: �Thankee, thankee sir, mere child�s play that one.�

�I�m sure it was, I�m sure it was�
The captain was named John Arbator. He was tall, broad, and had a head of long brown hair. When he smiled, which he did often, his enormous white teeth were shown. He turned to the master of the ship, Mr. Marshall, who was at the wheel, and said,
�Prepare to turn the glass and strike the bell.�

Twenty-eight seconds later, the half-hour glass was turned and the bell was struck four times, to signal it was four bells or four o�clock in the afternoon watch, and that the men who formed the afternoon watch were to come on deck. The deck was long and surprisingly clear for a active frigate, but Captain Arbator kept such close attention to neatness that it had become habit.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Re: Chapter. 1 -- novae, 23:01:59 01/27/02 Sun