The false light just before dawn wasn?t enough to see by, not well ? but this section of the docks was well-lit and well-patrolled, where the fishermen departed every morning into the darkness. Hudson exchanged quiet words of greeting to the others on the pier as he passed; by now they knew he wasn?t competition for them ? but also that he went out for the love of it. Kindred spirits, and despite the differing accents he felt as comfortable here as he ever had in Scotland.
Later, when the boats returned, the piers would clamor with good-humored competition, catcalls and taunts, information traded about where the banks were still yielding well and where they were fished out. Now it was early, with the hazards still to be faced and mist clinging to the water; mooring lines were unfastened with quiet calls of instruction. Hudson stood on the pier by the L?ir Mothan and squinted out at the horizon, judging the weather for the day.
By the soft glow of a shuttered lantern, Sylvia had stirred the children from their slumber just enough to whisper that she was going to be away that morning and would see them later. She did not want Cian and Aidan to wake worried, and though she doubted they would recall much of her words, she hoped some of it in a dream like recollection would ease them when only Gwen was there to help them prepare for the day.
With only a few essentials in a pack slung on her shoulder and the ever present dagger at her hip, she had road into town on the back of a bay mare, liveried her in a quaint sleepy stable near the harbor, and approached the rest of the way on foot. The signal bells on the greater vessels, the snap of rope and flap of canvas like their own mystical melody in tune with the lapping of the water against the docks. She strolled on to the dock of the Mothan with a smile to the man standing there. "Good morning, Hudson."
?Madainn mhath, Sylvia.? Turning with the greeting, Hudson smiled in return. ?Th? weather favors us taeday ? a wee chill on th? air but clear and turning fine.? His clothing for the day reflected the chill and the practicalities of working on a boat at sea ? stout boots with rough soles, sturdy canvas pants, and a shirt cut loose enough not to hamper his motion.
Stepping across and a little down into the snugly secured dory, he turned back to offer a net-scarred hand in aid to her. ?Ye told o? yer skill wi? th? lines before ? I?ll put ye tae th? test and ask ye tae cast off th? lines while I push us away from th? dock.?
"Aye, aye, Captain," she winked, her hand rested in his only a brief moment. The pack was off and stowed into a corner away from primary activity. Her own clothing was not much different from her custom while in Rhydin. The trews were dark of cotton, the shirt light and the bodice the dark green. Its lacings were a little looser, but being a woman accustomed to movement in armor found it not constricting in the least. The only thing that had found more restriction was her hair, braided back from her face, though little rebellious tendrils had already found their ways free.
It was a smaller craft than she was accustomed to from the nearly seven years now back that she sailed. Still, her body responded to her commands and balance was an easy thing as she moved to release aft and bow lines with precision and care. She remained in the bow near the edge at the turn point to guide if need be for a smooth clearing.
One of the long oars served as a pole, and once the last line was clear Hudson braced it against the dock and pushed off. A steady lean of his weight angled against the solid wood, turning the boat smoothly as it gained distance. Near enough the end of the pier, it wasn?t long before the Mothan was too far for the oar to reach, and he pulled it back in.
Stepping across to the mid-bench, Hudson settled the oar back into place and fastened its lock. ?And another task for ye ? if ye?ll watch ahead and guide th? path out o? th? harbor. Ye see I put ye tae work instead o? relaxing, at least for th? moment, but ?tis an able crewman ye be.? Hudson?s smile was a flash in the grey light, the horizon starting to tint white with coming daybreak.
He didn?t wait for an answer before taking his place on the mid-bench and settling scarred and callused hands on the oars. A shrug of his shoulders as preparation, and then he started the even strokes against the sloshing waves.
She laughed, just a few notes at his claim of setting her to work. Violet eyes watched and ears listened, she did not turn from the task but cast her voice so it might be heard without the turning. "And just how is it you manage to clear the harbor without my extra set of eyes to help guide?"
Hers were not the only watchful eyes. Others in their ships and boats were bobbing their way as they started to raise sails and catch the breeze to carry them along. "Two points off the port bow, boat is tacking, Captain, to avoid the neighbor coming about." She called to let him know of the ship making a course correction that would bring them closer to their own line. "What's our direction of sail today?" She kneeled with one foot flat in the hull of the boat, arm resting upon the knee and a lean forward.
The answering laugh seemed to come easier on the water. Despite the harder physical labor, there was an undeniable ease to Hudson that did not come about as often on land. He made the directed course correction with a momentary stall on one oar before resuming their steady sweep. ?Och, I spend a great deal o? time craning my neck back, and wi? a more cautious pull tae th? oars. This?ll be easier, though.?
?And as for th? direction ? would ye rather tae keep th? land in sight, or gang on out tae where there?s naught but sea and sky? Southwards along th? coast for th? one, and due west for th? other.? A gull cried overhead, plaintive and answered by the ringing bell of a depth-marking buoy. ?A wee farther and I?ll stow th? oars in favor o? th? sail.?
A playful scoff, she answered back, "Are you thinking I have a fear of the deep, leannan? Let us go west then, and you see to the tiller. I'll man the sail when you call." She took another sweeping gaze of the area, each vessel having chosen its course in relation to the others, all threat of immediate danger due to course changes gone, she crouched quick footed across to find the lines and check the sail rigging before the call.
"You should find yourself a ship's mate or at least able seaman to aid you in this. Could feed him with fish." A smirk as she realized she made an assumption, "Or her."
Later, when the boats returned, the piers would clamor with good-humored competition, catcalls and taunts, information traded about where the banks were still yielding well and where they were fished out. Now it was early, with the hazards still to be faced and mist clinging to the water; mooring lines were unfastened with quiet calls of instruction. Hudson stood on the pier by the L?ir Mothan and squinted out at the horizon, judging the weather for the day.
By the soft glow of a shuttered lantern, Sylvia had stirred the children from their slumber just enough to whisper that she was going to be away that morning and would see them later. She did not want Cian and Aidan to wake worried, and though she doubted they would recall much of her words, she hoped some of it in a dream like recollection would ease them when only Gwen was there to help them prepare for the day.
With only a few essentials in a pack slung on her shoulder and the ever present dagger at her hip, she had road into town on the back of a bay mare, liveried her in a quaint sleepy stable near the harbor, and approached the rest of the way on foot. The signal bells on the greater vessels, the snap of rope and flap of canvas like their own mystical melody in tune with the lapping of the water against the docks. She strolled on to the dock of the Mothan with a smile to the man standing there. "Good morning, Hudson."
?Madainn mhath, Sylvia.? Turning with the greeting, Hudson smiled in return. ?Th? weather favors us taeday ? a wee chill on th? air but clear and turning fine.? His clothing for the day reflected the chill and the practicalities of working on a boat at sea ? stout boots with rough soles, sturdy canvas pants, and a shirt cut loose enough not to hamper his motion.
Stepping across and a little down into the snugly secured dory, he turned back to offer a net-scarred hand in aid to her. ?Ye told o? yer skill wi? th? lines before ? I?ll put ye tae th? test and ask ye tae cast off th? lines while I push us away from th? dock.?
"Aye, aye, Captain," she winked, her hand rested in his only a brief moment. The pack was off and stowed into a corner away from primary activity. Her own clothing was not much different from her custom while in Rhydin. The trews were dark of cotton, the shirt light and the bodice the dark green. Its lacings were a little looser, but being a woman accustomed to movement in armor found it not constricting in the least. The only thing that had found more restriction was her hair, braided back from her face, though little rebellious tendrils had already found their ways free.
It was a smaller craft than she was accustomed to from the nearly seven years now back that she sailed. Still, her body responded to her commands and balance was an easy thing as she moved to release aft and bow lines with precision and care. She remained in the bow near the edge at the turn point to guide if need be for a smooth clearing.
One of the long oars served as a pole, and once the last line was clear Hudson braced it against the dock and pushed off. A steady lean of his weight angled against the solid wood, turning the boat smoothly as it gained distance. Near enough the end of the pier, it wasn?t long before the Mothan was too far for the oar to reach, and he pulled it back in.
Stepping across to the mid-bench, Hudson settled the oar back into place and fastened its lock. ?And another task for ye ? if ye?ll watch ahead and guide th? path out o? th? harbor. Ye see I put ye tae work instead o? relaxing, at least for th? moment, but ?tis an able crewman ye be.? Hudson?s smile was a flash in the grey light, the horizon starting to tint white with coming daybreak.
He didn?t wait for an answer before taking his place on the mid-bench and settling scarred and callused hands on the oars. A shrug of his shoulders as preparation, and then he started the even strokes against the sloshing waves.
She laughed, just a few notes at his claim of setting her to work. Violet eyes watched and ears listened, she did not turn from the task but cast her voice so it might be heard without the turning. "And just how is it you manage to clear the harbor without my extra set of eyes to help guide?"
Hers were not the only watchful eyes. Others in their ships and boats were bobbing their way as they started to raise sails and catch the breeze to carry them along. "Two points off the port bow, boat is tacking, Captain, to avoid the neighbor coming about." She called to let him know of the ship making a course correction that would bring them closer to their own line. "What's our direction of sail today?" She kneeled with one foot flat in the hull of the boat, arm resting upon the knee and a lean forward.
The answering laugh seemed to come easier on the water. Despite the harder physical labor, there was an undeniable ease to Hudson that did not come about as often on land. He made the directed course correction with a momentary stall on one oar before resuming their steady sweep. ?Och, I spend a great deal o? time craning my neck back, and wi? a more cautious pull tae th? oars. This?ll be easier, though.?
?And as for th? direction ? would ye rather tae keep th? land in sight, or gang on out tae where there?s naught but sea and sky? Southwards along th? coast for th? one, and due west for th? other.? A gull cried overhead, plaintive and answered by the ringing bell of a depth-marking buoy. ?A wee farther and I?ll stow th? oars in favor o? th? sail.?
A playful scoff, she answered back, "Are you thinking I have a fear of the deep, leannan? Let us go west then, and you see to the tiller. I'll man the sail when you call." She took another sweeping gaze of the area, each vessel having chosen its course in relation to the others, all threat of immediate danger due to course changes gone, she crouched quick footed across to find the lines and check the sail rigging before the call.
"You should find yourself a ship's mate or at least able seaman to aid you in this. Could feed him with fish." A smirk as she realized she made an assumption, "Or her."