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Aug. 5th, 2006 02:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bringmethatnpcIt is the middle of first watch, several hours after sundown, and the Edinburgh Trader is charting a steady course through the star-speckled dark waters. The men not on watch are sleeping as soundly as they can, and more than one man on duty stifles a yawn and thinks longingly of his hammock.
But sleep is not the only thing on the men's minds. A thorough search of the ship had produced neither hide nor hair of a young lady without her clothes on, and as a result the whispers of witchcraft and ghosts have started again. Very quietly, of course -- no man wants to face the Captain's temper -- but even the most seasoned sailors are doubly alert to every creak and groan of the ship.
But sleep is not the only thing on the men's minds. A thorough search of the ship had produced neither hide nor hair of a young lady without her clothes on, and as a result the whispers of witchcraft and ghosts have started again. Very quietly, of course -- no man wants to face the Captain's temper -- but even the most seasoned sailors are doubly alert to every creak and groan of the ship.
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Date: 2006-08-06 06:18 am (UTC)The sight that awaits them reminds more than a few of them, Bellamy included, of the Bible story of Daniel and the doomed king of Babylon -- specifically, of the fiery letters written upon a wall that spelled the proud ruler's terrible fate. The sign blazing upon the Edinburgh Trader's deck is nowhere near as terrifying as that wrought by the hand of the Lord, but it burns its way into the minds of every man present to see it.
TORTUGA.