Anticipation in the Air

Once again, I sit and write ramblings in my journal (and yes, I refuse to call it a diary considering that I am both male and I don't write about lo- well, because I'm male) in a moment a quiet time during this afternoon. I found a nice nook of a small tea shop two or so block down from my hotel room that has a lovely view of the street, opening up it's curtained windows to the sites and sounds of a busy city. Ladies tip-toe past in the heeled shoes with the dress train and corsets tightened to nigh unbearable. Why someone would want to wear one is beyond me. Though the occasional less "high-fasion" lady with belts criss-crossing at the waist, a leather trench-coat, and a "what are you looking at?" face made the style seem a little more formidable. What was fascinating as well as on occasion frightening was the assorted equipment people would carry. Some held odd looking boxes with wires and puffs of grey smoke coming out the side, while others seemed covered in rifles and pistols of varying shapes, colors (though almost always brass), and sizes. I saw one lady who had a rifle strapped to her back whom's rifle barrel had to have been at least half her height! Throughout this orderly chaos, no one seemed in too terrible of a rush, simply coming and going where needed. Doing business with one shop before moving on to the next. I could sit here and watch them all day.

Well, let me bounce back to the beginning of the day to record this appropriately. I was awakened with the sunlight streaming through the window, apparently in my stumbling about the room to get to bed I never quite got them closed. Blinking off the blindness, I made it to a bath, thankfully warm, and prepared for the day. While eating a meager purchased breakfast of a half-roll of bread and a cup of goats milk, I overheard talk that the Black Billows are on the move again. As a child, tales about raiding pirates were of great fright as well as enjoyment. Inconspicuously leaning in to hear better, the man at the table next to mine said, "I hear that j'st cause there be more adventure ships departing with a crew h'eager for their heads, they ain't afeared. In fact, it means a better game to dem. How to sneak in, hit 'da transport, and 'den get out. Few see 'dem comin', and nones e're seen 'dem leave." Hearing this sets my stomach on edge. Not simply because my imagination runs wild with images of pirates armed to the teeth attacking a helpless transport ship, but also because a part of me longed to live that freely. Not have anyone to answer to. Be truly free from it all!

I leave the hotel room and decide to walk the streets, seeing what is open for seeing. I pass different vendors and stores selling anything from new watches to pet Streeks, an odd bird like creature that resembles a mix between an owl and a peacock, though small enough for the shoulder. Nothing interests me until I spot a sign about crews needed. A nail-board leans against the outside wall of the shop with a variety of pieces of paper nailed or shoved of older nails, all advertising airships looking for a new crew member. One asked for a cook who must be skilled with both hands while another requested specifically a black man with a good gun-hand. One that stood out to me was a ship asking for a new first mate. He must be organized, take good direction, and have a quick mind. Not be afraid of hard work, and able to adjust to anything. In a heroic light, that could almost be me!

I laugh to myself, but what's the hurt in trying it out? Said it pays well too. Turns out that the info says the "auditions" are tomorrow, so I guess I get the rest of the day to see the sights. Not that there's much besides more carriages, shops, and people. Oh! That reminds me, I've got to write that postcard for my family. Well, I'll leave off here for now and go do that. Jake Kelton, writing off!