Chapter Three
Finnbarr Robeson woke to the sun glaring in his eyes and a splitting headache.
"Begad..." He muttered, staggering out of the cabin, leaving his snoring bunkmates to their drunken dreams. He took his place at the tiller, absently munching on a strip of dried beef he had found in his pocket.
'I need a post that gives me less time to think'
He gazed out to the horizon, where the sun, blood-red, was rising. The waves were, as always, that unnaturally bright turquoise that was a trademark of Caribbean waters. The sky, flaming crimson and orange around the sun and fading out to a pale rose-lavender at the edges, was reflected off the sea. Finn glanced around to the helm, where Jack's distinctive figure was silhouetted against that sunrise. He wandered over, almost drawn toward him, but then, it wasn't as if the tiller was going anywhere.
"'Tis a beautiful mornin', eh Cap'n Sparrow."
"Eh? Oh, aye so 'tis, Mr. Robeson"
'Mr. Robeson' Finn thought bitterly
"Finn, if'n ye don' mind Cap'n." Jack looked at him sideways. "Y'must unnerstand. Ye like bein' called by yer full ti'le- I don'. Some people're like that." Jack nodded acquiescence, though it was not understood acquiescence by a long shot.
After several minutes of awkward silence, Jack spoke
'He's speaking to me of his own accord, yes!'
"So, Mr. Ro- I mean, ah- Finn, aye, Finn, where're ye from? What's yer... ah... hist'ry, as it were."
"Mmm? Oh, was born in Ireland-"
'I like the way he says that,' Jack thought, 'Aire-lend.'
"Me Da were a pirate 's well- 'Auld Shaun', they call'd 'im. Some call'd 'im Steelsheen, fer 'e were famed fer 'is skill wi't the Sco'ish claymore. Anyway- we star'ed movin' aboot when I were abou', och, eight 'er nine. Mostly 'round th' Bri'ish Isles- 'till 'e were kill't, an' I 'ad t' make a livin' fer me Ma, an' me sisters,'s well as meself. La'er, me Ma died- wasted away, so did me li'llest sister, an' I left, went 'on the account', as they sat. Tha's abou' it."
Jack had a pensive look on his face as he trailed off- clearly Finn had more to tell than this- this was just his family life, his childhood. What about after he went 'on the account', his career in piracy?
"Tha' all, mate?" Now it was Finn's turn to look pensive- how much did the captain suspect he hadn't told him, and why did he care, surely it wasn't usual for a captain to know the life story of all his crewmembers.
"Oh, aye, much more, but I don' think I'll be telling ye all of it right now." Jack grinned; his gold teeth glinting in the growing light, a witty answer, perhaps even worthy of one such as himself.
"Well said, mate..." He suddenly perked his head up, as if listening. "Ye think ye cou' ge' up in yonder rigging an' furl th' sails? Looks t' be a fair win' t' day."
Finnbarr smirked "Aye aye, Cap'n. Furl th' sails, will do."
He clambered up into the rigging with practiced ease, in a much better mood than he had woken up in, for it seemed to be a fine day, with a fair wind, and a very savvy captain.
Finnbarr Robeson woke to the sun glaring in his eyes and a splitting headache.
"Begad..." He muttered, staggering out of the cabin, leaving his snoring bunkmates to their drunken dreams. He took his place at the tiller, absently munching on a strip of dried beef he had found in his pocket.
'I need a post that gives me less time to think'
He gazed out to the horizon, where the sun, blood-red, was rising. The waves were, as always, that unnaturally bright turquoise that was a trademark of Caribbean waters. The sky, flaming crimson and orange around the sun and fading out to a pale rose-lavender at the edges, was reflected off the sea. Finn glanced around to the helm, where Jack's distinctive figure was silhouetted against that sunrise. He wandered over, almost drawn toward him, but then, it wasn't as if the tiller was going anywhere.
"'Tis a beautiful mornin', eh Cap'n Sparrow."
"Eh? Oh, aye so 'tis, Mr. Robeson"
'Mr. Robeson' Finn thought bitterly
"Finn, if'n ye don' mind Cap'n." Jack looked at him sideways. "Y'must unnerstand. Ye like bein' called by yer full ti'le- I don'. Some people're like that." Jack nodded acquiescence, though it was not understood acquiescence by a long shot.
After several minutes of awkward silence, Jack spoke
'He's speaking to me of his own accord, yes!'
"So, Mr. Ro- I mean, ah- Finn, aye, Finn, where're ye from? What's yer... ah... hist'ry, as it were."
"Mmm? Oh, was born in Ireland-"
'I like the way he says that,' Jack thought, 'Aire-lend.'
"Me Da were a pirate 's well- 'Auld Shaun', they call'd 'im. Some call'd 'im Steelsheen, fer 'e were famed fer 'is skill wi't the Sco'ish claymore. Anyway- we star'ed movin' aboot when I were abou', och, eight 'er nine. Mostly 'round th' Bri'ish Isles- 'till 'e were kill't, an' I 'ad t' make a livin' fer me Ma, an' me sisters,'s well as meself. La'er, me Ma died- wasted away, so did me li'llest sister, an' I left, went 'on the account', as they sat. Tha's abou' it."
Jack had a pensive look on his face as he trailed off- clearly Finn had more to tell than this- this was just his family life, his childhood. What about after he went 'on the account', his career in piracy?
"Tha' all, mate?" Now it was Finn's turn to look pensive- how much did the captain suspect he hadn't told him, and why did he care, surely it wasn't usual for a captain to know the life story of all his crewmembers.
"Oh, aye, much more, but I don' think I'll be telling ye all of it right now." Jack grinned; his gold teeth glinting in the growing light, a witty answer, perhaps even worthy of one such as himself.
"Well said, mate..." He suddenly perked his head up, as if listening. "Ye think ye cou' ge' up in yonder rigging an' furl th' sails? Looks t' be a fair win' t' day."
Finnbarr smirked "Aye aye, Cap'n. Furl th' sails, will do."
He clambered up into the rigging with practiced ease, in a much better mood than he had woken up in, for it seemed to be a fine day, with a fair wind, and a very savvy captain.