First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
The swell persisted through the morning, and indeed none of the other sailors paid any attention to it, either, other than to help Stephen back to his feet when he stumbled, advising him each time to “keep one hand for himself, and one for the ship,” repeating the phrase each time like some sort of mantra.
“Take care, doctor,” said Jack after a particularly heavy roll knocked Stephen from his feet as he entered the cabin for dinner, rolling him across the deck so that he landed at Jack’s feet with his limbs splayed out like a starfish. “You need to keep one hand for yourself and one for the ship.”
“Thank you,” replied Stephen as Jack pulled him to his feet. “Surely this is abnormal? I don’t remember ever being so tossed about in space before.”
“The commercial passenger liners do go heavy on the dampers, yes. It makes for a smoother ride, which they feel the passengers prefer, but you’re less maneuverable, and of course the helm looses some of its feel. I think this is supposed to be beef,” he said, having lifted the cover off one of their trays to reveal a reddish-brown loaf covered in a clear, slightly oily, brown gravy. He leaned forward to sniff it. “Yes, brisket, I think. May I cut you a slice?”
“If you please,” said Stephen, passing his plate. Lifting the other covers revealed a green paste that might have represented broccoli, and what they recognized as the printer’s take on buttered rice.
“We only have to make do with the printer for another day,” said Jack as they tucked in. “We passed Martin’s Mark a little after two bells in the morning watch, so touching wood we should be docking at Neva 4 something before noon tomorrow, where we can take on some personal stores.”
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
No comments:
Post a Comment