Dreams of Sea and Sand

One of the Myths of Ixonia

Yarmouth Harbour - Evening by John Crome

Alfar met Brin on the East Harbour. The claw shaped stone buttress reached out to sea, ships sheltered on the inside being lapped by the slowed tide and lazy flow of the River Hulme that separated the Dual Cities of Guldale and Pagrock. The West Harbour met the East out at sea, cupping a bay of water almost as large as the cities themselves. Brin sat on the edge of an empty cart, the donkey standing patiently, stamped with a seal. H.M. Merchants and Suppliers wreathed in a belt with a complex pattern of leaves and pine cones behind the words. A salt laden breeze brushed Alfar's cheeks, the morning chill turning them pink. Sailors, merchants, and everyone in between mingled along the road and out into the dock. Early morning auctions had started on the deck of a three mast carrack advertising riches from the southern archipelago and lands further still. Grocers gathered around a single mast runner from the eastern coast laden with fruit and vegetables of every colour. One set of fishermen were returning, the rim of their boat almost below the sea with the weight of their catch, while another boat was just leaving for their morning catch.

Brin hummed to himself, kicking his legs back and forth, watching three women in ruffled skirts and plunging necklines approach a ship full of sailors but no cargo. The lead waved a silk fan as she pouted across the gangway, her blonde hair braided and arranged upward, lips as red as strawberries.

'Brin! What we here for today?'

The boy flinched, his brimless cap falling into his hands. 'Alfar, good you made it on time. Dad said Mr. Moss has a large shipment of something quite rare coming in on a ship called Fleeting Dream. Six jars, about half our height.'

Alfar leapt up onto the rim of the cart, 'What's in 'em?' Brin was wearing a new green tunic, his hair trimmed short. His dad must have been paid. Alfar pulled at a loose thread around the pocket of his rough beige trousers.

'Dad wouldn't say but apparently it's very valuable.'

'Everything Horatio deals in is valuable.'

'Mr. Moss,' Brin corrected.

'Is he here?'

'You never know.'

Alfar shrugged and stared out across the glittering sea. Once he had held a dream of sailing to other ports along the southern coast and then beyond the horizon to unknown lands. But that was a mere dream and the reality was he had younger siblings to help feed and clothe and sickly grandparents to care for. His mum and dad couldn't do it all. Maybe once everyone's grown up.

A sailor, tall, muscled, and sunburnt walked straight towards them with a grimace. 'Moss?'

'That's us,' Brin smiled enthusiastically and leapt off the cart. 'Good to meet you, I'm Brin,' he extended his hand for greeting.

'Six jars, come get 'em,' the sailor grunted, turned, and swaggered back towards his ship.

'Thank you!' Brin exclaimed, none-the-wiser on the snub.

'Why are you like this?' Alfar dropped from the cart and clicked his tongue. The donkey brayed and began to follow the boys with the cart.

'What? Friendly, professional, courteous?'

'Sickly sweet, boot licker, brown noser.'

'This is why you had yesterday's pay docked and I didn't.'

'That has nothing to do with it, anyway, how are we meant to load the cart with jars that big?' Alfar pointed at the six jars waiting on the harbourside, happy to move on from the prior day's mishaps. He bet sailor's never had their pay docked.

'Maybe one of the sailors will help us?' Brin said. The gruff sailor who'd found them walked past the jars and boarded the ship. Other sailors were unloading crates, jars, and kegs from the Fleeting Dream. The name in peeling gold paint along the side of the ship.

'We'll be fine,' Alfar slapped Brin on the shoulder and hurried towards the jars. 'You got the stamp?'

Brin stammered, 'Dad said we aren't to stamp the jars.'

'But we always stamp what we pick up.'

'I know but he said not to. I don't know why, didn't ask.'

Alfar shrugged, 'No matter, let's get them loaded onto the cart.' He wrestled with the cork seal and after wiggling it for a moment it popped open, it was full of red-brown sand. 'Sand? Horatio bought sand?' Alfar scooped up a handful and broke it up with his fingers. 'It's just sand.'

Brin shrugged, 'Look I'm sure Mr. Moss knows what he's doing. Let's get them on the cart so we can eat back at the storehouse.'

'Yeah you're right there was no breakfast for me today.'

'Because of yesterday?'

'Maybe. Grab that side,' Alfar sealed the jar with the cork lid and held the two of the four iron rings around the wide middle of the jar. The pair lifted the jar a handspan off the harbour and shuffled along the side of the cart. The donkey brayed, as if laughing. Alfar felt his eyes bulge and the veins in his neck pulse. 'Stop. Stop. This is ridiculous.'

Brin let out a harsh stream of air, his cheeks reddened from the effort. 'Hey, mister, hey!' he waved to the grimacing sailor as he was setting down a crate on the harbour stamped with a competitors seal. 'Could you help us?'

'No,' the sailor boarded the ship without looking at the two boys.

'Come on, we can do this,' Alfar lifted his side.

'Fine,' Brin gripped two of the iron rings and hoisted it up. The pair shuffled a little further down the length of the cart. 'I... just... don't... see... how... we... are... going... to... lift... it... that... high,' he set the jar down with a wheeze.

The sailor returned and shoved two poles of wood into Alfar's hand, 'Turn the cart around.' He grimaced and boarded the ship again.

'Thanks?' Alfar said. He whistled and led the donkey in a semi-circle so the back of the cart was facing the jars of sand.

'But now we have to take this one back,' Brin protested.

'Yes, but with these it will be easy,' Alfar slid the two poles through the iron rings. 'You take the back, I'll take the front.' The jar had lost most of its weight and the boys brought the first one to the cart. 'Now we just have to get them on here.' Alfar climbed onto the cart. 'I'll lift my side then you lift yours above your head and we'll slide the jar on.'

Brin nodded and readied himself.

Alfar hoisted his poles causing the jar to tilt. Brin lifted his higher and higher until his arms were straight up in the air, the poles shaking. 'I don't know how long I can hold this,' Brin said.

'A little higher, it's almost there,' Alfar said.

Brin cried and he dropped the left pole. The jar fell, cracking against the side of the cart and rolling onto the harbour where it shattered. Red-brown sand gushed out like running water. 'Mr. Moss will have our hides,' Brin rubbed his wrists.

'It's just sand, he'll get over it. Brush it into the sea,' Alfar shoved at the piles of red-brown sand with his feet casting great lumps of the stuff to drift on the breeze and patter against the water.

Sailors from the Fleeting Dream laughed at the two boys, some shaking their heads at the folly.

'You could help,' Alfar spat and tossed the fragments of terracotta pot into the sea.

'No fun in that,' one of them half way up the rigging replied.

'When we turn up with only five, Mr. Moss is going to ask questions,' Brin crushed his brimless cap in his hands.

'We say only five turned up,' Alfar shrugged and set the poles in the next jar. 'We can roll them on, the lids are tight,' he slapped the cork. It didn't budge. He lifted his half, 'Come on, I'm starving.'

'Alright, alright,' Brin set his hat on his head and helped. The second jar reached the lip of the cart and Alfar guided it onto its bulging side. The jar spun but Alfar caught it with his hand, removed the poles, and rolled it to the back of the cart. 'Easy,' he was sweating and the hunger became a pain.

Within no time the boys had the five jars on the cart and wedged in place. Alfar left the poles beside the Fleeting Dream. With a click of his tongue the donkey set off round the harbour, onto the road, and they began their short journey to Horatio Moss's storehouse.

Horatio loped across the floor, his silk slippers carrying him silently. 'What took you so long?' he said in a polished accent. The permanent scowl across his face bored into Alfar, then Brin.

'Jars were heavy,' Alfar said.

'Dad said there were six but only five showed up, Mr. Moss,' Brin said, surprising Alfar. He hadn't expected the brown noser to be upfront with the lie. Though, now there were only five jars, it was no longer a lie, not really.

Horatio paused, the ruffles on his jacket flitting about his neck. He fixed the boys with a glare, 'Only five, you say? I paid for six.' His eyes narrowed, 'Unload the jars, be careful with them. I'll be back later.' The merchant donned his cape and stepped out into the street leaving the boys alone.

Brin exhaled noisily, 'We're fine. It worked. Let's get these jars off the cart.'

'I need something to eat first,' Alfar headed to the kitchen nestled in the corner of the storehouse. As always there was bread, cheese, and pies for the workers. Alfar helped himself to a slice of pork pie and a chunk of hard cheese with a dollop of pickle. 'You ever think life on a ship would be better than this?'

'Come on, Alfar. The quicker we do the work the quicker we can finish for the day and the less chance there is of you messing up. And no, I don't think life on a ship would be better. I get sea sick,' Brin whined in the doorway.

'Of course you do,' Alfar stuffed the rest of the pie in his mouth and stowed the cheese in his pocket for later. His cheeks bulged from the meat and soft pastry, 'Pfff lssu hfsuo.'

'What?' Brin had two poles in his hand.

Alfar climbed atop the cart and rolled the first jar to the edge. The poles slid into the iron rings and soon after all five jars were nestled between crates and pallets stamped with H.M.

'You lying rats!' Horatio Moss bellowed. The door slammed open and his cape billowed with his speed. 'You smashed one of the jars! Smashed it! How?' His hand shook as he set a loose strand of black hair back behind his sun-kissed ear.

Alfar froze, eyes wide, 'We didn't mean to it just fell off the cart.'

'It fell? Well where are the contents?' Horatio Moss glided towards Alfar until he towered over the boy, the cape casting a long shadow until Horatio was his entire world.

'Errr...'

'Err... err... err,' Horatio bobbed his head side-to-side. 'Hand, palm down!'

Alfar held out his hand and a mighty whack sounded across his knuckles. The pain soon followed and he wanted to hold his hand tight to his chest but he knew that would mean another caning.

'Turn over your hand,' Horatio said in a worryingly calm tone.

Alfar did so and the cane fell in a blur. Tears came to Alfar's eyes as the stinging pain spread across his palm, a red weal already forming.

'You're docked today's pay too. Brin!' the merchant spun on his heel, the cape fluttering about him. 'Where's the sand?'

'In the sea, Mr. Moss.'

'Don't play smart with me,' Horatio waved the cane at Brin.

'No, really. We returned it to the sea,' Brin cowered, his hat in his hands.

'Hand.'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Moss, it's just sand. We can get more,' Brin held out his trembling left hand.

'Just sand? Did you not look through the jar you smashed? Did you not see what was inside the sand?' the cane whacked into Brin's hand faster than Alfar could see the stick move.

Brin cried and cradled his hand against his chest.

'Your hand, Brin!' Horatio grabbed the boy's wrist and caned him across the palm with two lightning fast swipes. 'That is for lying. Next time you do something like that the will be double the punishment to account for your idiocy too. Go home, both of you!'

'What are we going to do now?' Brin cradled his hand. 'If my dad asks me why I wasn't in the storehouse... oh I'm going to...' he trailed off lost in some painful thought.

'At least you'll have food. I don't know what mum's gonna make for tea now,' Alfar scratched his head.

'Your dad will have something.'

'Yeah but I don't think it's going to be enough for nine of us. Maybe we could dive into the harbour and fish out whatever was in the sand.'

'You're mad.'

'Do you have an idea because I didn't see anything in the sand, did you?'

'No, only dark sand.'

'Maybe the sand wasn't sand...'

'Maybe,' Brin sighed. 'Well I'm going up this way, you coming?'

'Nah I'm going to wander till sunset, that way mum won't think the complete worst. You could do to.'

'Can't hide it from dad, he'll be going over the books with Mr. Moss soon. No point trying to avoid home,' he sighed. 'Mum's going to be so mad.'

'See you tomorrow.'

'See you tomorrow,' Brin ran up the cobbled hill, darting between elderly men and women lounging in a strip of sun as it passed by their front doors and windows.

Alfar wandered the streets of Pagrock, the eastern city of the Dual Cities, until he found himself on the harbour road. The Fleeting Dream remained at anchor, along with dozens of other ships, big and small, but most of the sailors had ventured into town looking for wine, food, and women, though not necessarily in that order. His feet carried him onto the uneven stone of the harbour and out over the curving sea wall toward the ship. He stared at the ground until he saw glittering red-brown sand trapped in the mortar lines. It was sand. Alfar pinched a thimble and rubbed it between his fingers. Still sand. Sighing, he went to the edge of the harbour and sat down beside a pair of great iron bitts saddled with rope from the stern of Fleeting Dream. Alfar kicked his feet against the harbour wall and watched as the sea lapped up against the harbour.

The grimacing sailor appeared aboard the ship leaning over the side. His eyes found Alfar and a blank look came over him, 'Boss found out did he?'

'Yeah.'

The sailor smiled, 'Too bad. Made you pay for it?'

Alfar held up his hand, a keen bruise spreading out over the swollen palm and knuckles, 'And lost the day's pay. What was in the sand?'

'Too bad. I mean you did mess up bad. We'd have strung you up on the rigging for a few hours, given you a dunk on a long line, or maybe thrown you in the brig. You'd be fed and watered though, usually. Have to really mess up to lose food.'

'Well I got breakfast before he found out,' Alfar fished out the piece of cheese and began to nibble at it.

'Good lad. Can't help you with the sand, don't look in the cargo. Stops any of us wanting to steal it. Keeps us decent, least that's what the captain says,' he grumbled and picked at a scab on his knuckles. 'Lot of weird stuff out in the world worth a pretty penny, and little of it makes sense,' he let out a deep chested chortle.

'Why are you talking to me?'

The sailor shrugged, 'Nothing else to do until my time ashore. Some of us have to stay with the ship and I drew a short straw.'

Alfar nodded and stared out to glimpse the horizon between ships and harbour. He sighed. 'How'd you become a sailor?'

'Da died and mam was ill and couldn't feed me so I found a ship, learnt the ropes, now I get landsick if I'm ashore too long. This is my fourth ship. Traders are easy going compared to some other ships but the work is hard, non-stop, and messing up can still cause a death.'

Alfar nodded. 'Think your captain would take me aboard?'

'Always need new hands. Lots of jobs aboard a ship. Hard jobs too. Don't like it get off at a port and don't come back. Simple as.'

Alfar liked the sound of that, 'How often you call here?'

'Every couple of months. Though captain has a big trip planned so maybe half-a-year or more till we're next here.'

Alfar hummed, he could always drop off his pay to his mum and dad when the Fleeting Dream returned to East Harbour. One less mouth to feed but one less worker making coin, not that he'd done any of that recently.

'We're in harbour for two days. Don't have to decide right away,' the sailor knocked on the railing. 'See you round.' Laughter and indecent comments boomed behind Alfar. 'Hurry up so I can go ashore,' the grimacing sailor yelled.

'Keep your skirt on,' a blond sailor smiled as he crossed the gangway. He slapped the grimacer on the shoulder as they passed each other.

Alfar smiled to himself and thought, maybe next year.

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Thanks for reading.