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| The Printer and His Apprentice; (Ruben & Horace) | |
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| Topic Started: 22 Dec 2007, 09:29 PM (953 Views) | |
| Horace | 22 Dec 2007, 09:29 PM Post #1 |
Apprentice Printer
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Even though the journey to Tortuga was a short one, when compared to the journey from New York to Port Royal, Horace could not help the boredom he felt during the couple day journey. Maybe being unconscious for part of it was actually a blessing, even though he came out of it mixing up words and having a hard time keeping his balance. He did still mind the fact that he had been kidnapped. That was a sore spot, as was the now fading lump on his head. Horace reached back to touch it once more, wincing when it was still tender. Maybe in the next five minutes it would stop hurting, and be gone? He didn't imagine that the ladies--those fellow students that Ruben had mentioned would really care for that. Maybe if he had called it a battle scar they would like that...in those novels he read (when he knew no one was looking), women and girls were always turned on by such things. They just couldn't keep their hands off of men with those sorts of wounds. Maybe if he got a nice scar on his arm or something too...that would be really attractive then? Horace leaned further over the side of the ship, trying to see towards the bow. Earlier there had been a group of porpoises frolicking about in the waves up there--really funny looking ones, but right now they seemed to have disappeared. Now there wasn't even anything interesting to watch. He sighed and pushed back from the rail, stalking over towards one of the masts, where a crewmember grabbed the wayward child and pushed him out of the way, yelling at him to not get underfoot anymore. Bored. Bored. Bored, Horace thought, hopelessly. He really wanted to go out running with his friends, heck, even getting beaten up by them (all in fun, of course), seemed a better option than this. "Land, ho!" A cry came from the crow's nest, which drew Horace's attention. Land ho...that meant...they were at Tortuga! He rushed back to the side to see, but he couldn't make out anything. Just this blob off on the horizon. Sighing once more he went down to see if he could find Ruben, and see if he knew how long it would take to get there. "Are we there yet?" he grumbled to himself. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 22 Dec 2007, 10:06 PM Post #2 |
Deckhand
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Having spent many a long hour on board a ship before, Ruben had figured out ways of entertaining himself. His primary form of time-wasting was simply sleeping, as he was getting on in years and it was much easier to fall asleep than it had been when he was younger. Other times, if it was hard to fall asleep, he drank a little bit, when always helped to soothe him. When he was more inspired he might write, but that was difficult on a rocking ship. Sometimes he played games or told stories with the crew, but more often than not they were working on something ship-related. So, Ruben slept a great deal of the time. It wasn't until he had absconded with the boy Horace that he realized just how energetic they could be. Even after the boy had been clonked on the head and was surely sore, he was up and moving and being antsy like any child. Horace was far from a child, however, but he acted as impatient as a toddler. This put in glaring perspective how different life could be for someone of lucky birth, compared to the orphans and urchins he knew on Tortuga. So Ruben was dozing in his hammock when he heard the cry of land, and was still dozing when someone clomped down the stairs. He recognized the whine. "Are we there yet?" Even though it was muttered, Ruben heard it. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the young man-boy. "The ship is still rocking and moving ever forward. If we had hit land, I would think we would have stopped rather violently." He smirked and scratched his chest. "However I do find it rather heartening that you are so eager to step among the denizens of Tortuga." |
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| Horace | 23 Dec 2007, 02:44 AM Post #3 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"The ship is still rocking and moving ever forward. If we had hit land, I would think we would have stopped rather violently." Horace stopped in his tracks and frowed at Ruben's dark form. He really couldn't make him out all too well, having just come down from the sun and light on the deck down to the dark and smelly area...what was the term for it? Below decks? Something like that...Horace didn't really care. He was more concerned with ink, and type, and...paper. He knew that many thought it boring, or didn't bother to deal with it more than they had to, and didn't give it a second thought, even when they held a book, or primer in their hands, but he knew it's importance. Still...he wasn't sure there was the call for that sort of sarcasm, but he figured it was better than getting yelled at. Maybe Ruben--Master Velazquez would be a better master since he seemed less willing to yell at people? Maybe. He certainly hoped so. "However I do find it rather heartening that you are so eager to step among the denizens of Tortuga." "I'm not eager," Horace said, realizing that he probably didn't sound too convincing. He could see better now, his young eyes were good at adjusting, and he walked over towards Ruben's hammock, feeling the need to further refute Ruben's assumption. "I want nothing to do with those...denizens. You know why I agreed to come, and my terms, and that's all I'm concerned about," he shook his finger at Ruben, "and since we are partners in this endeavor now, I hope I won't receive any more suprises." Horace was feeling rather secure with his position now, enough so that he felt safe speaking back to his master. Which brought him to another matter of importance. Great importance. Incredible importance. "So...you think we could get something to eat before we get back? I'm starved and I hate the food on here." |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 29 Dec 2007, 11:09 PM Post #4 |
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Deckhand
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"I want nothing to do with those...denizens. You know why I agreed to come, and my terms, and that's all I'm concerned about, and since we are partners in this endeavor now, I hope I won't receive any more surprises." Ruben grunted and shook his head at the word "partners," but said nothing. If the boy thought they were going to be partners, he was sadly mistaken. Ruben would be happy to introduce the lad to a few of his female students, but he wasn't partners with anyone. At least not for long. He opened his eyes and gave Horace a smirk. "I thought part of the terms was that you wanted everything to do with some of those 'denizens.' Specifically the ones with petticoats, am I right?" He chuckled and closed his eyes again, letting his body sway back and forth with the motion of the ship. He was perfectly content to laze there until they reached the island. Unfortunately his young charge was not, and would probably bother him until they arrived. While he enjoyed the company of young people because of their vibrant energies, those same vibrant energies could be a right pain in the arse. "So...you think we could get something to eat before we get back? I'm starved and I hate the food on here." Ruben heartily laughed. "Ah, it's food your poor young body needs first, is it? Well, you're well aware of the state of our victuals on board this ship, I must say. Hardly tavern quality, but it's the best we have." He turned his head to look at Horace. "First thing we'll do when we arrive on Tortuga is head to one of my favorite taverns. I have a few students there who might be eager to meet you." He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his head. "Provided you behave. Is it so hard for young people to acquire patience?" |
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| Horace | 31 Dec 2007, 10:18 PM Post #5 |
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Apprentice Printer
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The ones with petticoats were the only ones that Horace would be willing to do anything with of his own voalition. They were a pleasant thought...and the couple days being on the vessel...even though he had been unconscious for some of it, was getting rough. It was really rough because no matter where he went it seemed, there were always people around. And Horace had more than enough sense to be caught with his breeches down. Metaphorically. Figuratively. Maybe just a bit literally. "Ah, it's food your poor young body needs first, is it? Horace grinned. The 'first' part was debateable. But it was definitely up with the top five that he needed. A real bed was up there too. Hammocks were horrible, and he couldn't fathom why anyone would like them or choose to sleep in them. "First thing we'll do when we arrive on Tortuga is head to one of my favorite taverns. I have a few students there who might be eager to meet you." Hopefully, Horace thought, they'll want to get to know me pretty well too..and hopefully they're of the 'petticoat' variety Ru--Master Velazquez has spoken of. Or all bets are off. I bet I could find and make my own way in Tortuga. Pirates manage it all the time. It can't be that hard, can it? "Of course," Horace said, nodding. "Provided you behave. Is it so hard for young people to acquire patience?" Horace took a step back, placing his right hand over his heart and bowing forward. "You wound me, O Master-mine. Of course I shall behave. That you must question my dedication is to wound me deeply and throw salt upon it. But as for the patience..." he screwed up his face, and straitened, "that I can never see any value to. 'Life's too short,' my pa always said, 'and patience isn't a virtue it takes to long to learn, that if ya ain't got it already, there ain't no reason to bother with learnin' it.' " |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 1 Jan 2008, 11:33 PM Post #6 |
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Deckhand
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"You wound me, O Master-mine. Of course I shall behave. That you must question my dedication is to wound me deeply and throw salt upon it." Ruben snorted. So this lad had a sarcastic streak in him, did he? He might be more trouble than the writer previously suspected. The boy was obviously full of more moxie now that he'd fully woken up and apparently had come to terms with the fact he was going to Tortuga. He wasn't whining and glowering about the idea. Horace might even grow to like the place, and Ruben wasn't sure if that was good or bad. For him. "But as for the patience...that I can never see any value to. 'Life's too short,' my pa always said, 'and patience isn't a virtue it takes to long to learn, that if ya ain't got it already, there ain't no reason to bother with learnin' it.' " The pirate grimaced. He had to go over that statement in his head several times before it began to make sense. It didn't help Horace imitated his father's plebian speech patterns. Once he did understand it, Ruben let out a sigh through his nose and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock. "Perhaps you feel that way," he drawled, stretching his arms up and grunting as spinal bones popped, "but Patience could be a life-saving virtue. It's not just about behaving while you wait for food. It's also about sitting in a black alley, waiting for someone to pass who might otherwise want to kill you." He finished stretching and looked at Horace with a bored face. This lad was probably going to be more trouble than he was worth, and Ruben was beginning to regret taking someone who was old enough not to need him. He should have looked for a younger, more impressionable boy. He tilted his head to the side. "Where is your father now, by the way?" |
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| Horace | 3 Jan 2008, 02:07 AM Post #7 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"But Patience could be a life-saving virtue. It's not just about behaving while you wait for food. It's also about sitting in a black alley, waiting for someone to pass who might otherwise want to kill you." Horace just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Ruben. Boy, could he be quite melodramatic himself. He didn't really buy into that whole "dangerous Tortuga" story stuff he heard. It sounded more like a place of harmless fun--some shooting (but just into the air, and everyone knew that that was hardly dangerous!), a wench auction, near drowning of men in wells. And lot's of rum. Not that he drank that stuff, he was more of a fan of beer, but hey... He'd never really been anywhere that was considered quite that dangerous. Port Royal could be dangerous...but he hadn't been there during any of the really "bad" events that occurred. Even New York, where he had previously lived, had been protected enough from any raids by the French or Indians. It was just a hard thing to grasp that the place could be dangerous--or that people could legitimately starve to death. He'd been fortunate that having a father who was a relatively successful tradesman he'd never really starved, and then serving with Master Eddington--he was successful, certainly more so than his father was, and he never had to worry about going hungry. Unless he got in trouble, but he was rarely ever in enough trouble to warrant that. "Where is your father now, by the way?" Horace looked confused by the question. What was Ruben trying to get at with this questioning...he wasn't trying to see if his father was dead so that he could prove his point about patience was he? That would just be low... "He's at home..." he said, his voice trailing off and betraying his confusion. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 3 Jan 2008, 10:43 PM Post #8 |
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Deckhand
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"He's at home..." "Ah," replied Ruben, who half-hoped the father was dead so he could make a point about patience (because he was low). Such was not the case, however. Oh well. Hopefully something almost-terrible would happen to Horace on Tortuga that would straighten him out. If not Ruben could perhaps make something almost-terribly happen. Horace would need money if he wanted to make it with any of those girls, and Ruben could easily withhold the stuff. He could also make Horace look bad in front of the girls. He stood up from the hammock and finished stretching out his back. "If you're that hungry I suppose we can head to the galley and have a look around. The food's going to be the same as what you've been having these past couple days though." He fished around in his pockets and finally pulled out his fake spectacles, placing them neatly on his nose. "Or you could wait an hour or two until we make port and hope that the food on Tortuga is a little better." (ooc: feel free to forward them to Tortuga) |
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| Horace | 16 Jan 2008, 05:24 PM Post #9 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"If you're that hungry I suppose we can head to the galley and have a look around." Ruben said. Horace stuck his tongue out and made a face. He was hungry, but he doubted very much that he was that hungry. Some food was just unpalatable, and that stupid...whatever they called it fake-bread-stuff was not edible. It must be a myth--that sailors really ate that stuff, because he couldn't imagine anyone being willing to eat that, even if they were starving. He'd nearly broken a tooth on it before, too. "Or you could wait an hour or two until we make port and hope that the food on Tortuga is a little better." Or...he could do that. Still not the best idea either...but at least that sounded slightly better. Pirates were always said to like going to Tortuga....hopefully the food was one of those reasons. "We can do that," he said before he dashed above deck to keep an eye on how close they were and when they would get there. As they approached Tortuga, Horace couldn't help but frowning. The place looked so shabby. Some building looked fairly sturdy at his distance, but they looked so old and dirty. On the outskirts of the place most buildings looked like the sorts of shacks that squatters had set up outside of Port Royal, and he know that those weren't sturdy at all. One of his mates' had a family who lived out there on the outskirts of Port Royal, and on Sunday, when he was permitted to run along with his friends after they had gone to church, he had stopped by to see his friend's baby sister. She had been pretty adorable...until she had thrown up on him when he got to hold her. The ship glided smoothly into the docks area, the men furling the sails, and standing by to drop anchor and toss ropes over to men waiting on the docks. It took longer than Horace thought it should for them to finish securing the vessel and say that the passengers were free to leave. They were right there, it hardly seemed like it would be too difficult for him to jump off of the boat onto the docks...well, then again the distance did look larger now that he was leaning over the side. A hand grabbed him and pulled him back. "Keep outta the way!" Horace turned to see a sailor. He stood straight up and gave him the greatest glare he could and ran below, nearly bowling over another passenger in an attempt to get to where he had know Ruben was last. "Master Velazquez!" he shouted. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 8 Mar 2008, 11:19 PM Post #10 |
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Deckhand
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"We can do that," Horace said before he dashed above deck. Ruben rolled his eyes and made a "Well, duh" gesture with his hands. The lad seemed to be getting his spirits back, which was a good and bad thing. Ruben always hated to see sad little children, but at the same time children with too much spirit were hard to handle. If they were the urchins on Tortuga Ruben could give them money and send them home to their mothers (if they had one), but Horace was his responsibility. Partially, anyway. If the lad got into too much trouble, Ruben would be happy to let him pay the price himself. He was almost a man anyway, well beyond the age that would make Ruben show heartfelt compassion. With the boy gone and Tortuga close at hand, Ruben rummaged through his things and decided to simply write. He had still meant to work on that Kate Rookwood "biography" and the past voyage prior to Horace's arrival had given him many things to think about adding. An ill-fated love affair here, a mysterious stranger there, long-lost relative, mythological treasures, etc. The two hours flew by, and Horace's sudden appearance was shock enough that Ruben splattered his pen on the parchment. "Master Velazquez!" he shouted. Ruben frowned at the black splotch on the paper, looking up to give Horace a glare. He almost asked what the boy wanted, but as soon as he was pulled from his imagination he realized they had arrived. He could hear people moving around above deck, and the distant din of merrymaking. Tortuga at last. "Ah, arrived have we?" he remarked, packing away his things. "I suppose the first thing you'll want is a hearty meal at a cozy establishment, am I right?" |
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| Horace | 15 Mar 2008, 06:50 PM Post #11 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"I suppose the first thing you'll want is a hearty meal at a cozy establishment, am I right?" "Of course," Horace said, trying to help Ruben get his stuff ready, so that they were packed and done sooner. And if they were done sooner, then they could go eat some real food. That was the one fortunate thing about his head-wound, not that Horace had truly known enough about all the medical implications to realise it, but he had had no difficulty after it at all with keeping any food down. He was fortunate to avoid a concussion. Ruben didn't seem too keen on Horace's help, maybe he thought the boy clumsy? -- That was just absurd to Horace's mind, he never would have been kept on at Eddington's Print Shoppe if he had been truly clumsy, but maybe it was something else...maybe he was deliberately trying to be slow to make them get food slower? Was this one of those stupid things adults did to try and punish children, or make them learn lessons? Not that Horace needed any of those. He was practically an adult himself, and besides, he never did anything wrong. It was always the adult's fault, and they knew it. It was just an adult thing they did--trying to push the blame onto the children themselves so that they wouldn't have to accept any fault for what they themselves had done. Trying hard to keep a whining edge out of his voice, he asked Ruben as they were disembarking, "why does this place look so shabby? It can't be safe to live in those places, is it? I mean why..." Horace trailed off, and stopped dead as he saw a very, very large breasted woman perched, in a way that had to be very precarious, on a barrel. She was taking a few large gulps from a bottle, and Horace couldn't help but notice how a little rivulet of the liquid spilled from the side of her mouth and made it's way down her neck, onto her chest, and plunging down toward her...very well endowed bosom. He tried hard a couple of times to form a sentence, but could not even make it past the point of forming a single word properly. "Whaaa..." He felt a light flick against the back of his head. "I think I'm gonna like Tortuga..." he said, smiling stupidly. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 25 Mar 2008, 01:16 AM Post #12 |
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"Of course," Horace said. Ruben smirked as he gathered up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "That's too bad, for you won't find any such thing here." He made his way up the stairs to the main deck and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. The hustle and bustle of Tortuga was a welcome sound after so many months at sea, and he was looking forward to a couple of weeks or more of a land-based lifestyle. He could relax and write and meet up with his students and old friends. "Why does this place look so shabby? It can't be safe to live in those places, is it? I mean why..." Ruben grimaced as he stepped onto the docks and made his way toward town. Then there was the boy. He'd have to show him his press and hope the lad knew enough about printing to fix it. Or at least keep it from falling apart. The boy had certainly regained some of his young personality. He wasn't terribly afraid anymore and even had the nerve to complain about the town. Ruben waited for the boy to finish, but as several moments went by with no further comment. He glanced at the boy and saw he was dumbstruck by something. Looking in his direction, Ruben held back a laugh when he saw the boy staring a buxom woman. "I think I'm gonna like Tortuga..." he said, smiling stupidly. Gripping the boy by the back of his neck, Ruben chuckled and dragged the lad away from the woman, and the others around her. "Indeed, I thought you might enjoy some of the Tortugan distractions. I can even introduce you to some. If you behave, of course." He led the way through town and then stopped at a particular tavern. As he entered he smiled at the familiar smells and sights. It was like home. Wherever home was. Either way, he was comfortable. There was a high-pitched squeal and a pitter patter of dainty feet as a pretty young woman latched herself to Ruben's arm. "Oooh, Ruby, you're back!" she peeped, smiling up at him. "Where did you go this time?" Ruben ran a hand through his hair in a lofty manner. "Just the edge of the world, my love. And then some." He turned slightly and gestured to Horace. "Picked me up a little puppy along the way." The woman cooed at Horace and tweaked his nose. "My, what a lovely child. Another addition to your little orphanage?" "You could say that," Ruben said with a smirk. "This is Horace. Horace lad, this young woman is one of my...students, Ursula." Ursula grinned at the boy. "Pleasure." |
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| Horace | 7 Apr 2008, 05:29 AM Post #13 |
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Horace let out an involuntary yelp as he felt Ruben grab the back of his neck and pull him away from the woman. Probably for the best...women tended to get a bit annoyed when you stared at them for prolonged times...especially if they started talking to you and you could only respond back while looking at their rack. They could also slap a lot harder than one would necessarily think... Once Horace managed to start taking a few steps in the direction Ruben was going, the older man relinquished his grip on the boy and allowed him to follow along under his own power. "Indeed, I thought you might enjoy some of the Tortugan distractions. I can even introduce you to some. If you behave, of course." Of course....behave for the man who kidnapped him...of course, the most natural thing in the world. Maybe he would release him before he turned 21...then he'd not have to serve him as long as his normal apprenticeship would be. Have been. Tense is so difficult to get used to, and Horace tended to despise it--especially when his master, former master Eddington was always correcting him. And...well...the perks would be worth it, at the very least. Eddington hated to hear that his charges would do...well what was only natural and not worth his yelling at them for. Horace was intrigued to see the pretty young woman. He gave her a shy smile when she looked at him. Women liked shy guys. Or anyway...all the women he 'knew' did. They felt it was endearing...hopefully this...Ursula would, too. But what an odd name... "The pleasure is all mine," Horace said, bowing to the woman, "Master Ruben here," he said with a quick daring glance to the man, "failed to tell me of you and your great beauty." He could be a flirt. And he could try to show Ruben up in it...though he was getting interested in Ruben's print shoppe...he could only wonder how shabby it was compared to the rest of the island. (done and edited) |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 12 Apr 2008, 05:28 AM Post #14 |
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"The pleasure is all mine," Horace said, bowing to the woman, "Master Ruben here," he said with a quick daring glance to the man, "failed to tell me of you and your great beauty." Ruben frowned. For some reason he thought the boy was being terribly impertinent. He wanted to smack him upside the head. Perhaps he would do that. Maybe he felt that way because Horace was attempting to stake claim on something Ruben had staked a claim on many, many times. Ursula let out a tinkle of laughter and tweaked Horace's nose again. "My, how the lad speaks! Where did you drag him from, Paris?" "Hardly," Ruben grumbled. "Just a pauper from Port Royal." "Ah," Ursula replied. "Well, perhaps when he's a prince he can afford a princess." She giggled and then gestured toward an empty table. "Are you two here for a bite of food?" "Yes," Ruben replied. He waited until Ursula had turned away and began leading them toward the table before he smacked Horace's head. |
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| Horace | 20 Apr 2008, 06:37 PM Post #15 |
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Horace winced when Ursula went for his nose. What was that about adults? He was an adult, and just because he was unmarried, and didn't have kids, and was younger, they felt it necessary to do something so...childish to him. Demeaning. "My, how the lad speaks! Where did you drag him from, Paris?" Horace was about to respond when he was cut off by Ruben. "Just a pauper from Port Royal." A pauper? Just a pauper. Horace was incensed. He may not have been of noble blood, but he was hardly a pauper. A tradesman was not a pauper, and for Ruben to insinuate that that was all that he was was just...just....just...demeaning. He was far better than a pauper. He had prospects, he had a future, he could read! Which part of any of that meant that he should be compared to the lower levels of society? He was an apprentice in a respectable field, the whole idea, honestly! An apprentice printer as a pauper...it was just absurd. And he was going to say that. Really. Honestly. But why do adults never leave any room in a conversation for another adult to add in? "Well, perhaps when he's a prince he can afford a princess. Are you two here for a bite of food?" At least that was something good. Even if he still was unable to point out that he wasn't a pauper. As she left he felt Ruben whack him. "Hey!" He said, "what was that for? Violence is not a solution to an issue. Unless you're challenging me to a dual," he rubbed at his head. Man, he sure hoped that Ruben wasn't one to get physical with him when he was worked up. It would really be horrible to serve a master like that, at least Eddington, hard as he was, never struck him. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 29 Apr 2008, 12:47 AM Post #16 |
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Deckhand
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Ruben wasn't feeling particularly magnanimous toward Horace as they sat down at one of the tables Ursula pointed out for them. She then ambled away to get them some alcoholic drink. "Hey!" He said, "what was that for? Violence is not a solution to an issue. Unless you're challenging me to a dual," he rubbed at his head. Ruben smirked, resting his cheek against his fist. His antagonism toward the boy melted away. "Violence can be a marvelous solution. If it wasn't there wouldn't be so many wars. Either way, no I am not challenging you to a duel. I'm against the needless killing of children." He glanced around the tavern to see if there were any other familiar faces amongst the crowd. There were some, primarily women, but after Horace's interaction with Ursula Ruben wasn't exactly eager to introduce the boy to anyone else he knew. "Speaking of children, you might occasionally be sharing quarters with other less fortunates in town," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "I run something of a makeshift orphanage, purportedly full of my own offspring." He chuckled. "Even the ones with bright red hair." |
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| Horace | 3 May 2008, 05:41 PM Post #17 |
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"Violence can be a marvelous solution. If it wasn't there wouldn't be so many wars." Horace leaned back in his seat, giving Ruben a strange look. He never, ever heard people say that in and of itself that violence was a good solution--it was simply the only one, but acknowledged to be a poor one. Unless one's honour was affronted, but then again, he really couldn't care a whole lot about that topic. He worked for a living, what time was there for honour? "Either way, no I am not challenging you to a duel. I'm against the needless killing of children." He shook his head, "Don't just assume that you'd be able to beat me because you got the jump on me back at home. In a fair fight, I'm able to hold my own." "Speaking of children, you might occasionally be sharing quarters with other less fortunates in town." Horace shrugged. He shared a room with the other apprentices at the print shoppe in Port Royale, so it wasn't like he was unused to having to share. And he'd always had an ambition to share a room...or a bed, with a nice lass. A beautiful brunette one. And since it was his fantasy, he certainly got to pick on those details. "I run something of a makeshift orphanage, purportedly full of my own offspring. Even the ones with bright red hair." Horace put his head against the table. He did not need to hear this about his new master. At all. Ruben fell in that category of, "people old enough to be his parents," and he most certainly did not need to hear that much more about his love life. He had it, sure, but that didn't mean that adults should flaunt it. It was really only something that he and his friends...how he missed them already, would discuss when alone or in hushed whispers. "Red hair?" He said looking up. "Girls...with red hair?" |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 8 May 2008, 05:25 AM Post #18 |
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"Don't just assume that you'd be able to beat me because you got the jump on me back at home. In a fair fight, I'm able to hold my own." Ruben took a moment to look the boy over. Perhaps Horace was stronger than he looked. He didn't have much in the brains department, so it would make sense he made up for it in other areas, such as brawn. Actually that was the only area Ruben could think of that Horace might have any skill at all. He knew it took strength to pull the lever on the printing press (though Ruben suspected his wasn't hooked up right anyway). Horace might just be able to beat him in a fair fight. Which wasn't ever going to happen. "Perhaps," Ruben conceded. "In a fair fight you might. Don't expect one amongst the rabble in these parts though." He grinned. "If ever you are in a fight, cheat however you can." "Red hair?" He said looking up. "Girls...with red hair?" Lord, this boy has a one-track mind. I can't yet tell if it's to my benefit or not. Ruben tried not to let his thoughts show on his face, and he also tried not to be so obviously exasperated with Horace's mindset. He drummed his fingers on the table a few times. "Most of my boarders are lads," he said. "Any girls there are end up in other places, or stay with their mothers." He let out a chuckle. "Besides, the oldest child I've ever put up was eleven. No one near your age makes the place their home. By then they're out on the seas or holed up in the brothels." He waved his hand around. "Not to say I couldn't introduce you to a few red-haired beauties. Are they your preference?" He raised a patronizing brow. "Do you even have a preference or will you climb into bed with any old nothing?" ((He says that based on my semi-knowledge that "nothing" was slang for women's private areas in Shakespeare's time, hence Much Ado About Nothing. I think one of my English teachers told me that...)) |
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| Horace | 21 May 2008, 07:10 PM Post #19 |
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Apprentice Printer
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Horace wasn't really sure he liked the idea of cheating in a fight, but if everyone else was doing it...then it really couldn't be that wrong. Plus, when in Tortuga, do as the pirates, or something like that. "Not to say I couldn't introduce you to a few red-haired beauties. Are they your preference? Do you even have a preference or will you climb into bed with any old nothing?" "I have a preference," Horace said defensively, not entirely sure why Ruben's question was that off-putting, "I wouldn't simply jump into bed with the first woman I saw. I mean...seriously, have you seen some of the women with mustaches...women should not have that sort of facial hair," he said, shaking his head. "But uh," Horace said glancing around covertly and lowering his voice, "yeah, I like redheads, you know...there was this girl, one of my mates, his sister. Had this amazing auburn hair, beautiful grey eyes...she was like a goddess, she was like...Athena, I swear. Prettiest girl ever. Said she wouldn't sleep with anyone until the day she married. There's a lost opportunity if you ask me. I mean she could have had her pick of anyone...then I found out that she was sleeping with one of Master Eddington's other apprentices. Just unfair. He had boils all over his face and all. I mean, how could you say no to a face like mine?" And Horace did his best 'cute puppy' impression. "So, I'd be interested in seeing this printing press of your's, once we finish eating. After all, I guess that's supposed to be my job...not that I have any idea what you'd even publish on a rock like this." |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 2 Jun 2008, 05:23 AM Post #20 |
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Deckhand
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"I wouldn't simply jump into bed with the first woman I saw. I mean...seriously, have you seen some of the women with mustaches...women should not have that sort of facial hair," he said, shaking his head. As juvenile as his statement was, Ruben couldn't help but agree. He'd seen more than his share of mustachioed consorts, and women of his blood were especially prone to such facial hair. Last time he'd seen his mother, she was very noticeably hairy. He didn't know how his sister managed to keep such hair from her face...Maybe she shaved. He grimaced. "I agree." He listened to Horace's poor little romantic tragedy, idly remembering his first foray into the world of tantric delights. One of the girls in the village on Hispaniola, mousy and quiet but sweet and voracious. He actually never went whole hog with a girl until he'd stumbled onto Tortuga, and that had happened before he really realized what was going on. But it was fun...until the girl realized he was penniless. That was not fun.... "...He had boils all over his face and all. I mean, how could you say no to a face like mine?" Ruben looked at the boy with a raised brow. In all honesty the boy didn't look bad, and he'd probably grow into a handsome man. He wasn't so much rugged but "pretty" and that had its place in the hearts of women as well. He grinned. "Of course, why do you think I picked you up? I was so charmed by your visage that I just had to strike you on the head and drag you home." "So, I'd be interested in seeing this printing press of your's, once we finish eating. After all, I guess that's supposed to be my job...not that I have any idea what you'd even publish on a rock like this." The pirate leaned back in his chair and let out a dramatic sigh. "Indeed, Tortuga is lacking in intellectual property. I was hoping to print the books here and then distribute them elsewhere, like Port Royal." He frowned somewhat. Port Royal was looking less and less like a possibility now with Beckett there. He was practically ruling the place. "I would have to write under a pseudonym," he murmured. Ursula returned with drinks and plates of questionable-looking but still edible food, then bustled away. Ruben picked up his bottle and drank. "And my press is, I'm sure, not correctly assembled. I'm hoping you can manage that, however." |
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| Horace | 3 Jun 2008, 05:52 PM Post #21 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"Of course, why do you think I picked you up? I was so charmed by your visage that I just had to strike you on the head and drag you home." Horace paled and shrunk back a bit when he realised the significance of that statement. It wasn't really a funny joke. Not at all. It was a serious matter...one which was pretty immoral too, he was sure...or he thought. He could have sworn that one of those sermons that he'd heard back in New York dealt extensively with something along that vein but he really couldn't be sure. He had made a habit of sleeping through those sermons. He'd perfected the art of dozing with his eyes slightly open--and no one'd ever known the difference. "Indeed, Tortuga is lacking in intellectual property. I was hoping to print the books here and then distribute them elsewhere, like Port Royal." Horace grimaced. He didn't really like the idea of printing books and stuff and then have them go on to directly compete with his master's--former master's printing press, but Eddington hardly printed books anyway. He made more money off of printing primers on grammar and selling those to the richer families in Port Royale for use in educating their children, as well as commissions for printing sheets for the Royal Navy, and more lately the East India Company. Ruben was probably not going to get those commissions, and primers really weren't all that great for making money. "And my press is, I'm sure, not correctly assembled. I'm hoping you can manage that, however." "That depends upon the press," Horace said, tracing patterns on the wooden table, "and where you ordered it from, though I think they're all supposed to operate under the same sort of principle. Look, not that I'm questioning your intelligence or anything, Master, but have you ever done this before? It's not exactly lucrative selling books, because you're going to have to find a captain willing to buy them, and then take them over to Port Royale, or Kingston to sell them. Master Eddington made more money printing things for the Navy, and Company, so...that's what I'd assume makes more money here, only I don't think pirates are ones to really need that. I mean...they can't exactly read can they? They're all uncivilised brutes. I honestly don't know what or to whom you're going to sell stuff." |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 5 Jun 2008, 04:02 AM Post #22 |
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Deckhand
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"That depends upon the press," Horace said, "and where you ordered it from, though I think they're all supposed to operate under the same sort of principle." Ruben grinned to himself, gnawing happily on the food that had been delivered. He hadn't told Horace that he didn't exactly order the printing press, so he'd had no choice on its maker or specifications. He'd received it in lieu of the typical payment someone were to give for his services. He wasn't even sure what country it had come from. "It's not exactly lucrative selling books....I don't think pirates are ones to really need that. I mean...they can't exactly read can they? They're all uncivilised brutes. I honestly don't know what or to whom you're going to sell stuff." Ruben pointed a knowing finger into the air, swallowing his food before deciding to speak. "Honestly, I don't expect to make money with such a venture. I do it only for my own joy and amusement, and the desire to share my art with the world." He lowered his hand and took a drink, then leaned back in his chair. "I have other ways of making money and supporting myself," he said with a smirk. "Ways that fit the piratical image I've adopted. |
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| Horace | 6 Jun 2008, 05:32 PM Post #23 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"Honestly, I don't expect to make money with such a venture. I do it only for my own joy and amusement, and the desire to share my art with the world." Horace leaned back, well at least with Ruben as his master, it was fairly clear that the man wouldn't make many efforts to improve aspects of his character. Long gone were the days when Master Eddington would scold him because he was too hasty, rash, impolite, or too prideful. That last quality at least, he must share in abundance with the pirate printer. Although, he at least wasn't quite so conceited as to make comments such as Ruben was. Art, indeed, Horace though, I'll have to take a look at this 'art' of his. Probably some lewd poetry or something. Might be fun. ""I have other ways of making money and supporting myself. Ways that fit the piratical image I've adopted." Horace held up his hands, "that's your business and none of my concern, that way when I do return, and run my own print shop I won't be guilty by way of failing to inform them of your actions," he paused, "only guilty by association, I guess." That's a depressing thought. He dug into his food. It was glorious...after a couple of days of that...whatever they called that slop that was supposed to be edible on board the ship, this was heaven. A bit plain and dreary, but that really couldn't be helped. He polished it off quickly. "You know what would be really lovely?" He said, "a nap. I feel like I could sleep forever. Speaking of sleeping, when am I going to meet those young female students of your's that you promised I'd meet?" |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 8 Jun 2008, 04:45 AM Post #24 |
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"That's your business and none of my concern, that way when I do return, and run my own print shop I won't be guilty by way of failing to inform them of your actions," he paused, "only guilty by association, I guess." Ruben chuckled. Well, the boy had hope. Ruben had the desire to change the "when" to "if" but thought against it. Horace probably would never return to the life he once had, but if he wanted to think that way, so be it. Ruben was surprised the boy wasn't more curious about his work, but perhaps it was for the best. If he wasn't so curious perhaps he'd last longer out there on Tortuga. "You know what would be really lovely?" He said, "a nap. I feel like I could sleep forever. Speaking of sleeping, when am I going to meet those young female students of your's that you promised I'd meet?" Actually...a nap did sound lovely. Traveling was always tiring, and being out on the ocean was too, especially when one was out in the sun for so long. Now that he was sitting Ruben was almost loathe to stand up again and walk to their house. With his bags too. After a journey he always had a heavier bag than when he left. Horace didn't have any bags, as his leaving home was impromptu. "Do you want girls or a bed?" he said, looking at him. "I can stop by the brothels and hand you over to some friendly lasses, or we can go home and sleep for a time and be refreshed and energized for proper wenching." He tilted his head. "Have you been with a woman before?" |
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| Horace | 9 Jun 2008, 06:06 PM Post #25 |
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Apprentice Printer
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"Have you been with a woman before?" Horace choked on his drink. Ruben was quite...forthright, wasn't he? Not that Horace couldn't be--with his friends they all tended to be quite forthright, and he'd managed to keep none of his parents Yankee attitudes from further north, but Ruben was older. It wasn't exactly something you'd discuss with someone that much older than you. Someone who was a couple of years older wasn't bad, they'd be more like an older brother, who'd you brag about your exploits to, right before he completely trumped your stories with his own, but Ruben was older than that. But then again, maybe that's how it was all done in Tortuga? And when in Tortuga... "Ahh...," Horace said, "Well, um...sorta." His face flushed a bright red when he recalled that one time he and a girl had...tried. It wasn't really the most pleasant of memories to recall. And a very quick one at that. "I'd, um, rather not talk about that," he said, hoping that how hot his face felt wasn't an indicator of how red it was. Clearing his throat he quickly tried to change the conversation. "So, yeah, I think we should take a nap first. Sounds like a really good idea. And maybe eventually we'll make sure that you have all the supplies you need so that I can run your Press." |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 13 Jun 2008, 01:56 AM Post #26 |
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Deckhand
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"Ahh...," Horace said, "Well, um...sorta." A very wide (and slightly malicious) grin spread across Ruben's face at Horace's shy behavior. Sorta? That was the beginning of a fantastic story, to be sure. At least a very hilarious one that Ruben would be happy to repeat to various bystanders in Horace's presence. Or perhaps not. That might be too mean. "I'd, um, rather not talk about that," he said. Ruben veritably pouted. The boy was no fun. Then again, something like that (as Ruben could easily imagine) would be embarrassing and hardly anything a man would want to spread around. Some of Ruben's earliest attempts at copulation were things he'd rather not remember, so he could relate to Horace's discomfort. But he still would have liked to hear it and make fun of the boy. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "All right, I won't press you. I'd love to hear it someday though." He grinned wickedly. "So, yeah, I think we should take a nap first. Sounds like a really good idea. And maybe eventually we'll make sure that you have all the supplies you need so that I can run your Press." Ruben gave a curt nod and stood up out of his chair. "Sounds right by me. I'm sure I don't have everything I need, and probably won't be able to get everything I need. But hopefully I have just enough to do things right." He stretched out his back and leaned down to pick up his bag. He chuckled. "And if all else fails, you can be my scribe and just copy everything I write so that it can be handed out to others." He slung his bag over his shoulder and began ambling out of the tavern, chuckling merrily. |
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| Horace | 18 Jun 2008, 01:52 PM Post #27 |
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Apprentice Printer
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Copy things out by hand? What sort of time did Ruben think they lived in? Printing was the way of the future. The only time he ever wrote by hand was when he took orders from customers at the shop. He never needed to write by hand--that always went to the master whose job it was to write out what was going to be printed--at least if he did a paper. Somehow though, Horace doubted Ruben was going to have enough demand in Tortuga to go ahead with printing a paper. And what would he print in the paper anyway? Letters asking about how one might better steal a paper from their neighbor? He had hoped, apparently futilely, that with a new master and one who was not as experienced in the business he might have more freedoms than he did with Master Eddington--well he'd have some--running the press himself, but that hardly counted. So far, it was appearing that under Eddington he'd had more freedoms. Although going whoring with his master wasn't one of them. That was still slightly awkward to think upon...best not let his mind wander there. He sat for a moment at the table, wondering if Ruben might leave him behind, and allow him to escape--he'd have no problems finding a brothel himself, or other taverns where he might be able to hide, but...anything beyond that, including bartering for passage back to Port Royale was a bit beyond him at the moment. And the people in the island didn't strike him as the sort who wouldn't tell Ruben where he was--especially when he had no money to bribe them with. Some choice, then. He stood up up and jogged to catch up to his master, having to weave around the other patrons in the establishment before he was behind Ruben. "What's so funny?" Horace said, somewhat darkly, quite sure that if Ruben had anything to laugh at at the moment it probably had something to do with his new "apprentice,' and Horace really did not like being the butt of the joke. |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 21 Jun 2008, 03:28 AM Post #28 |
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Deckhand
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"What's so funny?" Horace said. Ruben glanced down at the boy as he followed along. There was a moment or two when Ruben wondered if Horace would try to run away, and he didn't even realize he had given the boy a chance until he noticed he was walking alone. He was glad Horace had decided to stick around regardless. He had gone to a lot of trouble to garner his little apprentice. He waved a hand through the air. "I'm just happy to be home, with a new tenant. And I'm facing the prospect of finally putting my press together." He clapped his hands with glee and rubbed them together. A passing call from one of the brothels made him glance over to see a couple of women hocking their wares. He grinned and waved at them. "I'll need to catch up with my students as well. A teacher's work is never done." He led the boy through the streets of Tortuga but didn't point out any place of interest. There really weren't many places of interest, just about every building that wasn't a house was a brothel or a tavern. If you've seen one of those you've seen them all. They varied only in ownership and decoration and perhaps cleanliness. Ruben had been to all of them at least once. Finally he stopped at a ramshackle building of unimpressive quality. It was two stories tall with brown siding and nothing else to distinguish it from most other buildings. He laughed and clapped a hand on Horace's shoulder. "Home sweet home." |
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| Horace | 26 Jun 2008, 04:19 AM Post #29 |
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Apprentice Printer
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Horace looked up at the building expectantly. It wasn't all that big--it did have two stories which was often one more than he'd see usually in Port Royal. Though, even the one story buildings in Tortuga exuded an aura of shoddy construction. The building--woody old brown--reminded Horace of the sort of wood that sat out under the sun, rain, and other elements and grew black with the mold and dampness. Of course...he was sure that Ruben would take better care of a building than to let it get to the state where the natural elements would destroy it. He couldn't help but wince as he contemplated the building, biting his lip as he let his eyes travel over it a second time, hoping that his first reaction was wrong. But it didn't seem to get better on a second glance. So much for that theory. It really did look like it was the inappropriate sort of building to house a press. To get the inks to dry out, and the paper, they'd need to keep a fire going, and it seemed like any fire in the building would claim the whole structure, and spread and take away the rest of the pirate port with it. Not that that would be that much of a loss...it would probably take away all the vermin with it--rats, lice, and pirates, but Horace didn't fancy ending his life with his meager 15 accumulated years. "I...erm," Horace started, aware that he should say something at least vaguely polite about the building of his kidnapper. "I'm sure it's a lot more cozy on the inside, yeah? It's like they say, don't judge a book by its typeface, it's the spacing of the words that count...or was it the size of the f's that count...something like that. Not important." He exhaled. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's see it." |
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| Ruben Velazquez | 9 Jul 2008, 12:42 AM Post #30 |
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Deckhand
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"I...erm....I'm sure it's a lot more cozy on the inside, yeah? It's like they say, don't judge a book by its typeface, it's the spacing of the words that count...or was it the size of the f's that count...something like that. Not important." "Indeed it's not," Ruben said, frowning only slightly at the boy's unimpressive look. Horace seemed like he expected the building to fall apart right then in front of them, but Ruben knew the house was sturdier than it looked. It wasn't pretty outside (it wasn't pretty inside) but it was a roof with a door and windows complete with glass. There was an oven-like thing in the back (though Ruben usually went out for his meals) and two bedrooms upstairs with a bed in each one. Downstairs was divided into the "store" front, and the back half was a sort of catch-all parlor/office/storage space. Ample room for a man and his kidnapped servant. Plus the orphans. He was proud to have the little building. It was home. "Yeah, I'm ready, let's see it." "Good lad," Ruben chirped. He walked up to the front door and pushed it open, stepping inside first instead of waiting for Horace. He took a deep breath of the stale, slightly musty air, but grinned. Standing on the other side of the room, indeed taking up almost half of the entire area, stood Ruben's hodge-podge of a printing press. He walked over and gave it a proud pat. "And here it is, my pride and joy." Something metal clanged to the floor. |
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