We May Go Down

Writers: Chelle
Date Posted: 1st February 2016

Characters: Relik, Jaquin
Description: The seacrafters indulge in a little celebration.
Location: Seacraft Hall
Date: month 4, day 11 of Turn 8
Notes: Both these songs are modified from old sea shanties from the 1800s and back.

The storm was bearing down on them and many claimed to feel it in their
bones. They had finished their day's toil and were now sitting in the Great
Hall with their mugs, dinners, and bread. Sailors weren't generally a quiet
lot, though, so it didn't take long for the chatter to start after the first
few bites of bread had been eaten and the first few sips of grog had been
drank. When the food was eaten, there they still sat. Knowing what was
expected, the Hall's harper stood up from his seat and skipped over to the
raised platform the Master's table sat upon.

Cheers came up and the harper smiled. He took a bow and then brought his
fiddle up to his shoulder. He didn't need to sing. They would all sing the
words for him when the tune started. The first few strings were plucked as
he tuned the instrument. When all was ready, Jaquin began to play. It was a
good, strong tune, and easily got the men worked up. Claps and stomps could
be heard in time to the music. And then they mouthed the words.

"It's of a sailor bold/And lately come on shore/Both brisk and bold/Well
lined with gold/To his lover he did repair." There was a pause as he
continued to pour his energy into the playing. Then the next verse began.
"In old and ragged dress/Unto his love did go/Unto his love/All for to
prove/Whether she'll be kind or no." It was an old song and no one really
knew where it had come from. There were also several variations heard.
Seamen were a very superstitious lot and they were also usually pessimists
to go along with that. It kept them grounded and prepared for good or ill
though. "My merchandise I've lost/My ship is gone astray/Which makes me
fret/I'm deep in debt/Not a tenth part can I pay."

Someone out in the crowd, laughed. "Oh no! That's you Dartus!" Others joined
in the laughter while one man held a surly look.

"Come in, my dear, sit down/Put off thy ragged array/And I will be/So kind
to thee/And all thy debts I'll pay." That caused some shouts and calls. The
men liked the sound of that although most of them would never really expect
to depend upon a woman for income or to have any. Those lyrics were leftover
from the days before the craftban. "'Twas down in the main Hold/The happy
knot was tied/From land to land/There's no man can/Match the sailor and his
bride."

The hoots finally died down as the harper lowered his instrument, taking
stock. There was still plenty of grog left. They wouldn't be dancing but
they did want to celebrate. In case things went bottoms up, they would all
be happy now at least and feel alive in these moments. He called for
requests.

"Eh! That one now! Blow the Man Down!" was the one he heard. It was a
common favorite and a rousing tune for sure. The harper nodded and got ready
for that one. He brought his bow up into his hands and plucked the first
note.

"Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea, to my way haye, blow the man
down,/And pray pay attention and listen to me, Give me some time to blow the
man down." The volume was getting a bit louder. Even most of the apprentices
knew this one since it was easy and repetitive. It was a work song, usually
sung while swabbing or climbing the rigging. "I'm a deep water sailor just
in from so long, to my way haye, blow the man down/ if you'll give me some
grog, I'll sing you a song, Give me some time to blow the man down."

They were swaying then, getting into the music and getting rowdier. Some of
them were on their feet in the back. The hallmaster was sitting in his seat
though his wife and younger children were presumably already abed. He was
singing with the rest of them, unashamed. "'Twas on a long hauler I first
served my time, to my way haye, blow the man down/And on that long hauler I
wasted my prime, Give me some time to blow the man down."

"'Tis when a long hauler's preparing for sea to my way haye, blow the man
down/You'd split your sides laughing at the sights that you see. Give me
some time to blow the man down." Drudges went around to refill the mugs with
more grog. It was better to drink that and save the water. They might need
the water. "With the smithers and tailors and weavers and all to my way
haye, blow the man down/That ship for prime seaman on board a long haul.
Give me some time to blow the man down."

Their heads bobbed and they were smiling. Some of them were still stomping.
Others had fallen asleep in their seats. They had an early morning but none
of them cared just then. This was about the camaraderie of their craft. This
was about brotherhood. This was what a seaman's life was about. "'Tis when a
long hauler is clear of the land, to my way haye, blow the man down/Our
Boatswain then gives us the word of command, Give me some time to blow the
man down."

It went on like that for quite a few more songs after. And then finally, the
noise subsided and the men got up and filed out. The women had long since
gone. Some of them were drunk. They would sleep it off. They had work and a
sailor's job was never done. Still, most of them would never choose another
life. It was what they knew and what they loved despite the perils. It was a
calling-some of them the third generation or further in the family. The sea
called to them, was in their bones.

Relik was the last out. He looked around the Hall that the drudges would be
to cleaning shortly. He looked back down the passageway and he frowned. It
crossed his mind too many times. **What will become of us, I wonder?**

Last updated on the February 9th 2016

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

We May Go Down