Hardly as the ship had settled, a gangplank was set and the Captain strode off the vessel, while the soon-to-be crew hastily arranged themselves into acceptable formation. Piper's first thought upon seeing the Captain was that he was an incredibly large man - the largest she had ever seen. While most of the soldiers she had come into contact with had been strong and well built in their own right, they were stringy compared to Jeremiah Tartan - who had a full beard, reeked of salt and pipesmoke, and was the human equivalent of a barge in terms of size. At once, the Captain was handed a clipboard by one of his many officers, and went to work calling out names and studying each face to match the attendance. He surveyed them with more grunts than words as they took their turns standing before him; poking and prodding at the obviously uncomfortable arrangement.
Aside from the odd chuckle or whisper hushed into submission with a typically even louder shushing, the formation was stiff and silent as the Captain made his rounds. Piper had become accustomed to such formations through her harsh training at Brackendow Ridge, and they were a common enough occurrence once she had been assigned to the militia as well. Aside from the blinks and breaths, she stood as still as a statue, her eyes boring holes into the back of the skull of whoever stood in front of her. She caught sight of slight movement - a shuffling of feet - out of the corner of her eye. She recognized the figure as Micah as he nervously shifted his weight again with the encroaching of Captain Tartan.
The Captain was nearly in front of Micah now, and he grew anxious enough that he actually turned his head to glance at the man. Piper briefly considered saying something, but shut down the idea in an instant. Everybody was responsible for themselves; she was no longer in any position of authority and it was not her responsibility to police others. Micah stiffened up once it was his turn, but as soon as the Captain had come, he was off again with his posse down to the next man in line without a word otherwise. Soon enough, Piper's own turn had arrived.
"Raddendale!"
Piper confirmed her identity with an automatic nod. Though the sudden bark of her name had jolted her attention, her years of training kept her body in check. Captain Tartan squeezed his eyes into narrow slits as he stood before her, eyeing her from head to toe. Looking her over and making a number of small marks upon his list, his assessment of her lifetime of military experience was culminated into a single huffed word.
"Scrawny."
Someone snickered behind her.
Piper said nothing. She was caught speechless; though from astonishment or fear she could not tell. Never had she ever been considered scrawny. Even as a female, Piper had always led a more active lifestyle that had made her more muscular and toned than most girls her age. Such girls that learned the books in primary and secondary school if their families could afford it, or cooking and needlework at home if they could not. Even the daughters of skilled artisans and merchants that she had spied in the towns the militia had led her still held a sort of specific strength of the arms or legs that were honed by their trade, but not the sort of full-bodied muscle that her years at the Ridge had afforded her.
Tartan stalked off with his entourage as Piper remained rooted in place, finishing his rounds and leaving her in shocked silence, the gears in her brain whirring to find a solution to a problem that she could not compute. Finally after what felt like an eternity, he finished his roster and spoke a few introductory words to the gathered assembly.
"My name is Captain Jeremiah Tartan," He boomed across the harbor, "you will address me as 'Captain' only. If you fix to refer to me by any other name or title, you will be dismissed. And, if you fancy making the same mistake by calling me 'Cap'n Jerry' as a young recruit did a couple roats past, I will not hesitate to keelhaul you through half the Clarimo sea."
It was intimidating, though Piper was certain that he had been joking.
Fairly certain, at least.
"We will prepare the ship by refueling and stocking supplies n' provisions. During that time, you will become familiar with the in's and outs of the Lockjawe, become acquainted with the officers in charge of your supervision, and be assigned your duties aboard. Myself, along with many other Captains of the first Quarter, work closely with Commander Prescott.''
There he is again
Prescott's name seemed to her to influence and permeate through every moving piece of the First Quarter, and Piper focused more intently at the mention of it.
"I'm certain most of you have been informed of the Navy's recent need for bodies. Seeing as the last batch of recruits weren't up to scratch, we're hopeful you lot will fare better. We shall make the utmost haste with our time here in port, for as much as I'd prefer to ease you into your new roles aboard my ship, I've received not two moons past an important assignment which must take priority, so make the most out of what you are taught while your feet still stand on dry land."
With those final words, the Captain ordered the recruits onto the ship, and they spent the rest of their tedious time in port going over duties, responsibilities, what roles they were to perform given different encounters, and assessing every members' strengths and weaknesses.
The Lockejaw was massive, and, as Piper quickly learned, unlike any other of the thirteen lands had been able to produce. Its ironclad frame spanned well over 150 meters, resting in port with only the occasional groan as her hull rubbed up against the moorings. Though the chimneys had been billowing thick, dark clouds upon the ships' arrival, only the occasional belch of smoke rose up now as the iron beast relaxed. Upon their first step aboard, a portly officer took the time to herd the new crewmates throughout the various decks and cabins aboard the Lockjawe after the Captain disappeared to his quarters.
"Name is Simon Wilkes, or Officer Wilkes I s'pose, Chief Gunner aboard this vessel." Wilkes huffed quickly, "though most aboard just call me smokestack. I wouldn't if I was you - not that I mind - jus' might seem a bit impertinent, you folks bein' so new an' all."
Wilkes spoke quickly, often using his hands with great emphasis to his words. He shepherded his new flock through the maze of corridors within the ship so quickly, it took a conscious effort to keep up with his pace. At a pause in the tour where Officer Wilkes stopped to dab his perspiring forehead with a kerchief, Piper was startled to realize that she actually needed to catch her breath. Each portion of the ship was explained in great detail, though Wilkes often intermingled the functions and histories with personal anecdotes and irregular commentary that made things hard to follow. At several points, the officer had to slow his gait to an awkward waddle while he adjusted his suspenders, or removed his worn flat cap to wipe the perspiration from his pudgy face and shiny head.
Piper decided that he very much reminded her of an egg.
"This ship relies on steam power in order to turn the paddle wheels on the sides and stern of the vessel, and so we have a large inventory of coal belowdecks to power the boilers." Wilkes explained, lighting a pipe full of tobacco as they tromped down a staircase blackened with soot.
"Boiler room is off limits to any but the stokers in charge of its maintenance and fueling. A select few will be trained to that end along with the engineers. Once we set out, the boilers will need round the clock monitoring while they operate, as improper maintenance or a change in pressure could result in a fire or explosion. We have safeguards in place in case of such an event that we cannot use the engine, of course, in which case we can shut down the boilers and raise sail on the main deck. Those primary boilers which are used for the propulsion of the vessel are typically cooled at night, as navigation becomes trickier in the dim light, and reduced speed is typical to mitigate risk. The paddle wheels are able to be lifted from the water and stowed within the ship at the flip of a lever."
There was little time to rest following Officer Wilkes' tour, as when one officer left, another took up the mantle into another lesson, examination, or administrative paperwork, from dawn until dusk. It was two days before the ship left port.
While a few of the recruits were dismissed prior to raising anchor, a surprising majority of them made it to become mates and were accordingly assigned to cabins. Then it came time to be assigned positions on board based on the skill sets that had been both known and demonstrated.
On that day, they were required to be lined up in order to receive these assignments. Piper was one of the last in line and therefore one of the last to approach. A senior officer that was dwarfed by Captain Tartan stood by his side and in front of the line of assembled mates. Most officers that she had seen in her short period with the crew had varied greatly in the features they possessed, and this man was no different; with a lined face and sharp features, he held a clipboard in one hand whilst fervently jotting down what Piper assumed to be some very droll information. After a moment, he whispered something to the Captain that she could not hear, and he nodded to him in turn.
The officer then gave a quick clear of his throat before announcing that the first of the sailors in line may step forward. Truly, the officer had birdlike features, Piper reasoned, though while the rest of his body and face brought to her mind the image of a hawk, the way his neck gyrated when he spoke was more akin to a turkey.
"Maxine Lidgett" The officer squawked.
Piper had recognized the girl as one of the sailors she had seen at the port before the arrival of the ship. Captain Tartan assigned her the role of Gunner, and the young woman gave a cordial salute before stepping towards her respective officer. After a few more sailors, Piper recognized Micah as his name was called, who made an attempt to stand straighter after a harsh scolding the day before. Tentatively, he strode towards the Captain.
"Rigger."
Micah's face blanched in shock, looking up into the lofty sails, he turned white as a sheet. It looked as if he would faint. The Captain saw this as a question, and responded as such.
"You're wiry and quick, small too. I trust you remember the duties of a Rigger and will perform them with competence?"
Micah nodded slowly, and moved to stand by the side of a senior Rigger.
A few more Mates approached before Emeline stood before the officers.
"You'll work aside our Sailing Master, assisting with navigation and coordinates."
She beamed at him, "Yes Captain!" and strode over to the Sailing Master.
Horace was only two behind her, and though he carried himself with confidence, Piper thought she could sense his tension.
Captain Tartan and the officer at his side looked at him once over, considering him. "You'll be studying under our Boatswain, supervising the ships' activities. I'll also be having you train as a Carpenter part of the time as we're short on hands."
He breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension was gone.
"Aye, Captain. Thank you," he nodded, marching to the side of his new supervisor.
Piper waited on and on as more names were called and duties assigned, until at last it was her turn. She approached stiffly, unsure of her assignment yet aware that she had at least provided some level of competence over the last two days on board.
The Captain barely looked at her, "Swab," he barked, before calling the next name on his list.
She could not move.
"I beg your pardon?" she quietly asked, aghast.
The officer's piercing gaze turned to her like a spotlight. "Is there an issue in the Captain's judgment, Miss. Raddendale? Or do you not recall the duties of a swab? I believed the name would be quite self explanatory."
She took a deep breath and, ignoring the Officer's question, faced Captain Tartan. "Sir, I-"
"Captain."
"Captain," She corrected herself, "I believe that I am fully capable of more important duties, I have-"
"The only thing you are capable of, Raddendale, is disobeying orders." He snapped quickly, but loud enough so as to ensure the rest of the assembly could hear.
Piper looked as if she had been struck. The birdlike officer scoffed at her clear disrespect, while the Captain himself hawked and spat far enough to sail clear over the gunwale before meeting her gaze, his cannon-like arms folded over his chest.
"I have been fully informed on the backgrounds of all my recruits, most importantly those who have been transferred from other divisions. You are of some arrogance to plead to me about an err in my sense. If it weren't for Commander Prescott's personal request, I'd've dismissed you with the rest of the slackjaws we left in port. Now go." Tartan said with a flick of his head, discarding her once again and returning his attention to the next mate.
Piper shamefully gazed around and saw some of her equals look at her with pity; but worse so were those that didn't look her way at all - or suppressed a laugh instead. It was all too much to bear.
"But Sir-"
Tartan whipped around on her suddenly with the fury of a bull. "I am your Captain, Raddendale! You seem to be under the assumption that I am here to wait on your every beck and call! If you dislike your assignment you'd do very well to throw yourself overboard now, before the swim back to shore becomes too long to make!"
Piper wandered and limply stood along a line of other swabbies, not daring to meet another's eyes. All around her, the rest of the world felt like a hazy, unfocused blur. Piper's sense of order and bearing was fighting a losing battle with her emotions as she clenched and unclenched her fists at her side. It was all she could do to prevent her eyes from misting over as the final assignments were given out to the remainder of the crew.