In the beginning
I left home for a merchant vessel at the age of 17 with hopes of seeing the world from a different perspective, a choice I wasn't sure if it would be as luxurious as I had expected.
My family had for about five generations lived on the port city of Mensa.
They sold the exotic furs brought in by ships that had traded beyond the straits of Calgris, ships that came back with beautiful stories of civilizations with wealth beyond our most adventurous dreams, and also brought back goods to prove their lore.
Often times during my childhood, I would wait at the pubs, and crewing houses at the quay as I overheard seafarers of varying voyages exchange stories of their daring escape with the mysteries of the deep.
Lies or not, I never had enough. Each night (if I spent it at home), I would turn on my bed eyes gazing into the skies as I fantasized about going on my adventures and coming back to tell my daring tales amongst my fellow seamen.
Among the seafarers my favourite was Pa Cherdley. A captain in his days, but now retired and left to work his family land rearing livestock and managing an inn.
The farmer was more of a title for Pa Cherdley, as he was always tending to the inn, leaving the farmwork to his wife and brothers children.
Pa Cherdley was most active in the evenings as most seamen in those days were. You would see him juggling over a hundred tasks, trying to keep the inn as comfortable as possible for the staying seafarers, something he understood the importance of being as an ex seafarer himself.
But above all one thing Pa Cherdley valued immensely was Friday nights as ships rigged to sail on Friday had to stay fast till the next Saturday, as any seafarer who knew the seas never set sail on the day the Lord was crucified.
So surely the inns where well packed with the crew of the ships delayed on Friday and due for Saturday.
Of all my Fridays at the "Pa C" my favourite was the day the whaling vessel "Lucky Gypsy", was delayed.