Hello to all my readers! Just wanted to touch base with everyone, and let you know I haven't forgot about the blog. Here's a status update about projects I'm working on and hoping to get off the ground soon.
The Chamber Chronicles: I originally promised to have this story started by Thanksgiving weekend, however that obviously did not occur. I'm still working on some details on that story before I can really hit the ground running with it so I'm not quite sure when the first episode of the CC will be posted here on the Chrononaut. I would still love to here from some of you for character ideas for the story if you have any.
Silent Night: I'm excited to announce I'm working on developing a new timeline that will have it's start involving a Christmas theme. I don't want go give much away yet, but this story will start in the early 1900s, and will have a format similar to that of the Airship President/Legacy story (in other words, it will be written as a series of clips from books and newspapers from within the timeline itself).
The First Thanksgiving: I hope you enjoyed that spur of the moment short story that I wrote to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday here in the United States. It was a fun reversal of our own history, that I found enjoyable to write and speculate about. If you didn't get a chance to read this three part story yet, go check it out! Here are the links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3
In addition to these stories, be checking back periodically, because I plan on reviewing some podcasts that I really enjoy that relate to both real and alternate history, and that I think my readers will enjoy and would love to pass along to you.
Thanks for reading!
Showing posts with label thanksgiving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thanksgiving. Show all posts
Friday, November 30, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
The First Thanksgiving - Part 3
Nearly two months had gone by since the Pale Ones first arrived at New Mannhatta, or as they called themselves, the Inglis. The Settlers had finished most of their buildings and a palisade around the perimeter. The Temple had been dedicated in a special ceremony that one or two of the Inglis from Noopleamot had observed. They were somewhat disapproving of the Settler's beliefs but had been, for the most part, respectful. The Cheif-Priest, who called himself Priest Chon the Third, had made it very clear he did not want trouble with the Settlers from the Ten Nations, and the Captain, who was now being called the Chief, had made it clear that he wanted no trouble with the Inglis. "Our goal is not to conquer," he'd assured Priest Chon not long after their first meeting.
The Chief was very thankful that he'd allowed his navigator and one of the village Priest's disciples stay in Noopleamot to start learning the language of the Inglis and some of their history. From the reports that had come from those two, it appeared that several hundred years ago a great sickness overcame the island of the Inglis, having come on the ships of traders from the main continent, a place the natives called Urop, and spread rapidly through the Inglis homeland, killing a majority of the population in their towns and causing a collapse of the central government. The ancestors of the people of Noopleamot originally lived in a coastal town called Pleamot, and they were the survivors of the plague from that town. They fled their dying city and went inland, and built the town that the Settlers were now becoming acquainted with. The Chief had been given a rare privilege by Priest Chon to visit the home of Noopleamot's ancestors. They made a pilgrimage to the ruined city, mostly overgrown now with a few stone buildings still standing, including the shell of the city's main temple. They'd also visited the ancient harbor there, seeing what remained of docks and sea walls, most of which had collapsed and returned to a near natural seeming beach. Priest Chon explained that after the Great Dying, the survivors pulled together and formed Noopleamot. There are other settlements of survivors scattered across Inglan (what the natives call their island), and they do trade with them some. There have been small scale wars fought between some of the settlements for control of resources, but so far no tribe of the native Inglis had attempted to restore the ancient kingdom that had united the whole island.
The Chief hoped that soon either his navigator or the disciple would return from Noopleamot so that they could start teaching the people of New Mannhatta the language of the Inglis. The Chief planned to forge a strong alliance with the Inglis of Noopleamot. He felt maintaining good relations with the natives was vital for the survival of his people and their settlement at this critical early stage in it's existence. In a decade or two, with more dissenters likely to flee the rule of the new regime in Onondaga City, he believed the population of this new settlement would rival that of Noopleamot, and the survival of his people's new foothold in the New World would not be so precarious. The ship that brought the settlers to Inglan had sailed back for the Ten Nations about a week after the settlers had made contact with the natives. The Chief believed that they would see another ship sometime the following Spring or Summer. By then, the buildings of New Mannhatta would be complete, the first fields cultivated, the wharf operational, and hopefully a trade road to Noopleamot would be built by then. So many grand plans. The Chief and the newly formed Elder's Council was optimistic about the future.
The Chief was very thankful that he'd allowed his navigator and one of the village Priest's disciples stay in Noopleamot to start learning the language of the Inglis and some of their history. From the reports that had come from those two, it appeared that several hundred years ago a great sickness overcame the island of the Inglis, having come on the ships of traders from the main continent, a place the natives called Urop, and spread rapidly through the Inglis homeland, killing a majority of the population in their towns and causing a collapse of the central government. The ancestors of the people of Noopleamot originally lived in a coastal town called Pleamot, and they were the survivors of the plague from that town. They fled their dying city and went inland, and built the town that the Settlers were now becoming acquainted with. The Chief had been given a rare privilege by Priest Chon to visit the home of Noopleamot's ancestors. They made a pilgrimage to the ruined city, mostly overgrown now with a few stone buildings still standing, including the shell of the city's main temple. They'd also visited the ancient harbor there, seeing what remained of docks and sea walls, most of which had collapsed and returned to a near natural seeming beach. Priest Chon explained that after the Great Dying, the survivors pulled together and formed Noopleamot. There are other settlements of survivors scattered across Inglan (what the natives call their island), and they do trade with them some. There have been small scale wars fought between some of the settlements for control of resources, but so far no tribe of the native Inglis had attempted to restore the ancient kingdom that had united the whole island.
The Chief hoped that soon either his navigator or the disciple would return from Noopleamot so that they could start teaching the people of New Mannhatta the language of the Inglis. The Chief planned to forge a strong alliance with the Inglis of Noopleamot. He felt maintaining good relations with the natives was vital for the survival of his people and their settlement at this critical early stage in it's existence. In a decade or two, with more dissenters likely to flee the rule of the new regime in Onondaga City, he believed the population of this new settlement would rival that of Noopleamot, and the survival of his people's new foothold in the New World would not be so precarious. The ship that brought the settlers to Inglan had sailed back for the Ten Nations about a week after the settlers had made contact with the natives. The Chief believed that they would see another ship sometime the following Spring or Summer. By then, the buildings of New Mannhatta would be complete, the first fields cultivated, the wharf operational, and hopefully a trade road to Noopleamot would be built by then. So many grand plans. The Chief and the newly formed Elder's Council was optimistic about the future.
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A light snow had fallen on the ground in the region around New Mannhatta and Noopleamot. The late summer warmth that had greeted the settlers from across the Great Sea was now but a memory. The Chief was in a good mood. He, the Priest, the navigator (who was now acting as the unofficial liaison between New Mannhatta and Noopleamot), and about a dozen others were trekking through the woods towards the Inglis town, invited as guests for a special feast. According to the navigator, it was one of the Pale One's most holy of days, when they celebrate the birth of their deity. The invite to the celebration and feast at the Chief-Priest's home afterwards was a great honor.
The sun was setting at their backs as the Settlers arrived at Noopleamot. The guards at the gate waved and opened up the big wooden doors to allow them inside the town. The houses were decorated with boughs of evergreen trees, some formed into circles and hung on doors, others lining windows. The Chief led his party to the native's stone temple in the center of town, where they were greeted warmly. They were given seats of honor near the front of the main hall, able to see all of the ceremony. Soon after their arrival, the ritual began. There was singing and chanting, old songs that mostly predated the Great Dying that celebrated the coming of the Inglis deity down to Earth. After the songs, Chief-Priest Chon stood at the central podium and read from the book of sacred writings (they called it the "byebul", according to the navigator). Following the readings, Priest Chon led those gathered in a special prayer and then another song, and then the ceremony concluded. Priest Chon then invited the party of settlers to stay in his home over night and to join him for the great feast the next day.
The feast prepared by the Priest Chon's wife and daughter seemed quite lavish. There was a great roasted boar, and all kinds of vegetables. They were serving a local ale that the locals mostly reserved for such special occasions. Joining the Chief-Preist and his family and the Settlers was the head of the town's militia, several scribes from the small school that was in the town, and a few other notable citizens of Noopleamot. After all the food was out on the table and all the guests were seated, Priest Chon stood up and spoke. "Family, friends," the navigator translated (although the Chief was learning the Inglis tongue, he was not yet as fluent), "we are so blessed this year with the addition of the Haudenosaunee people of New Mannhatta. These peaceful people from across the Sea have been a great addition to our land, and have become good friends. May God bless this friendship and let it flourish." The people around the table all murmured agreement and raised their glasses and began to feast. As the Chief looked around, he hoped this would be the future, the people of the Homeland and the Pale Ones coming together to form a new community. Only time would tell of course, but the Chief was sure that the future was bright.
The feast prepared by the Priest Chon's wife and daughter seemed quite lavish. There was a great roasted boar, and all kinds of vegetables. They were serving a local ale that the locals mostly reserved for such special occasions. Joining the Chief-Preist and his family and the Settlers was the head of the town's militia, several scribes from the small school that was in the town, and a few other notable citizens of Noopleamot. After all the food was out on the table and all the guests were seated, Priest Chon stood up and spoke. "Family, friends," the navigator translated (although the Chief was learning the Inglis tongue, he was not yet as fluent), "we are so blessed this year with the addition of the Haudenosaunee people of New Mannhatta. These peaceful people from across the Sea have been a great addition to our land, and have become good friends. May God bless this friendship and let it flourish." The people around the table all murmured agreement and raised their glasses and began to feast. As the Chief looked around, he hoped this would be the future, the people of the Homeland and the Pale Ones coming together to form a new community. Only time would tell of course, but the Chief was sure that the future was bright.
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In the decades that followed this first arrival of the Haudenosaunee people from the Americas, the colonial populations exploded in Inglan, Eyrlan, and in Urop proper. Just four years after the settling of New Mannhatta, the settler population was over one thousand, and smaller hamlets were popping up farther and farther away from the main town, which had now nearly merged with it's port. Two years after that, the militant faction that had taken control of the Ten Nations and forced this initial migration across the Great Sea lost power, and those who the Captain/Chief had initially supported took control once more. This caused an even greater explosion of settlement in the Sunrise Lands. Soon, the southern portion of Inglan was under the rule of the Great Council at New Mannhatta, including native settlements such as Noopleamot, Oakhamton, and Dorrester. Most of the Inglis welcomed the new camaraderie and unity that came with the rule of the Haudenosaunee. Some, however, believed that it would be better for the tribes of the Inglis to rise up and reestablish their once great kingdom. There would be many attempts at this, but none would last for long, primarily because no one could agree on just who should lead the Inglis tribes.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
The First Thanksgiving - Part 2
The Captain called out commands to the warriors and other men in the area. He wanted them to secure the women and children. Then he called out to a few of his closest men that he trusted the most to follow him to the stream bank. He walked slowly, keeping his hands slightly raised and visible, and called out a greeting to the Pale Ones across the stream. They looked as frightened as the Captain felt, talking to themselves quickly and in hushed voices in a language that the Captain and his men found incomprehensible. Well, to most of them. One of this men, who had been his navigator on the voyage across the Great Sea, approached.
"Captain, I recognize some of the words that these men are using. It sounds like the tongue used by the Priests from that strange sect in some of the towns in the Eastern Nations. I travelled there while I was a student at the Ten Nations School in the Capital."
"How could they possibly speak the same tongue as those back in our land?"
"The Priests in the Eastern Nations, they claim that some of their rites and rituals come from the Pale Ones that visited our shores centuries ago, and that they continued their legacy through their faith. The religion of the Eastern Nations is somewhat different from our own, and it could be because of the influence of these long ago Pale Ones that maybe came from this land?"
It was a crazy notion, but all the Captain had to go on.
"How much of this religious tongue to you know?"
"Some, enough maybe to make basic communication with these people."
That was enough for the Captain. He told his navigator to come with him as he stepped forward closer to the stream's edge. He told the man to translate for him, and began to call out to the Pale Ones. In short, concise sentences, he told natives that he and his people did not come to harm them, that they were peaceful settlers from across the Great Sea. The navigator struggled to make find the right words, but was able to get the point across.
"Captain, they say that they want no fight with us, that they only came to see what was going on here. They come from a village not too far away. They want to know if you are our leader and if you would be interested in meeting with theirs, apparently some sort of Priest-Chief."
"Tell them yes I am, and yes I would, so long as I can bring some of my men with me."
The Pale Ones agreed. The Captain went back to the settlement to make some arrangements and to calm the people who were still hiding in the not-quite completed buildings. Then, the Captain, the navigator, the engineer, two warriors and one of the Priest's disciples crossed the stream and met up with the Pale Ones.
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The party of Settlers and Pale Ones walked through the woods for a time, before coming to an old, partially overgrown dirt road that wrapped through the forrest. The Pale Ones motioned for the Settlers to follow them down this path. After an hour or so, the woods thinned out, and the Settlers looked out across green fields patched with woodlands, the landscape rolling gently up and down in small hills. in the distance, over the crest of a hill, the party could make out a plum of smoke rising into the sky.
"That is where their village is." the navigator said after the Pale Ones spoke to him. The Captain nodded, then asked, "See if you can find out what they call their village." After some back and forth between the navigator and the main Pale One who seemed to speak for the group, the navigator said, "They say their village is called 'Noopleamot.' They say it is the largest settlement in the region, with several hundred people." The Priest's disciple wrote down the information in a small deer-lether bound journal. All the temple workers were keeping a record of their experiences here, and the Priest himself had started a sacred record of the new settlement. The navigator continued. "They want to know what we have named our new settlement. Shall I tell them?" "Yes of course," the captain said. The navigator looked back at the Pale Ones and said, "New Mannhatta."
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After another hour of traveling along the old road, the party approached Noopleamot. There was a low palisade wall of wood and stone surrounding the small town. The Pale Ones in the party called out to their fellow villagers who stood on small towers on either side of the gate. The men on the inside opened up the gate and the party entered inside.
The people of the village stopped what they were doing as they saw the Settlers walk by. The men were mostly dressed in some sort of heavy cloth shirt, and some sort of cloth or leather full length leg coverings that seemed very strange to Settlers. The women mostly were in full length skirts that were of strange cuts and again seemed foreign to the Settlers. The buildings themselves were mostly single floor dwellings that were a mix of wood and stone. Some looked sturdy. Others looked dilapidated and thrown together very haphazard. Most of the roofs were of some sort of thatched grass, and many had little shoots of stone sticking out for smoke to escape. As they walked to the center of town, a large stone building loomed ahead, with a tower in front and a larger hall in the back. The navigator explained that the men said it was some sort of religious temple, and that the Chief-Priest ruled the village from there. As the villagers looked on, the men led the Captain and his men were ushered into the temple through a large wooden door.
Entering the main temple, there were rows of long benches on either side of a main aisle, and at the far end there was a podium and some sort of alter in front of that. Behind the podium, on the wall, there was what the Captain assumed to be an image of the local’s deity, a man that appeared to be in pain and somehow attached to two crossed timbers. It seemed very strange to the Captain. The navigator, when he saw the image, stopped and stared.
“What is it?” the captain asked, when he noticed his companion’s reaction.
“I’ve seen something like this before, at a temple back in the Eastern Nations. It looks a lot like one of the spirits that some of the Easterners worship. I can’t recall what they call it though. He’s supposed to be the son of the Great Spirit who came to Earth to purify people.”
“Well, maybe the legends of from the East are true, that some Pale Ones did come and settle amongst the Eastern tribes and joined them after no other Pale Ones followed to settle.” As the Captain pondered all this, he followed their guides through a door on the left side of the main hall that led into the private rooms of the Priest-Chief. Standing in the main room was a man of what the Settlers thought of as average height, with bright orange hair, long and flowing just like his beard, which was going gray in places. He was dressed in strange looking green and yellow robes decorated with what the Captain could only assume was religious symbols. The Pale men bowed in reverence to the Priest-Chief, and then began to converse. The navigator informed the Captain that they were introducing the Settlers and explaining that they had set up a village a few hours from Noopleamot and that they’d come from across the Great Sea. Then the Chief-Priest began to talk to the navigator, who then translated for the Captain.
“He says welcome in the name of his god and of the people of Noopleamot. He asks if it is true that we have legends of Pale Ones coming to our shores. He says that according to their own legends and scrolls that a party of Pale Ones did set off into the sunset hundreds of years ago from the place where their ancestors lived by the Sea. I told him that we did. He seems very excited and interested in this. He want to know what our intentions are.”
“Tell him that we have traveled here to make a new start, that we are at odds with the people in charge of our homeland and have been granted permission to start a new settlement in a new land in peace instead of being punished at home. We come here with peaceful intentions as our Prophet calls for, and wish to coexist with the people here.”
After talking with the Cheif-Priest for a few minutes, the navigator turned to the Captain and said, “He says that we are welcome, and that he hopes to have peace with our people. He asks us to stay tonight as his guests and return to our village tomorrow.”
“Give him our thanks.” Said the Captain.
“Sir, may I volunteer to stay behind for a time?” asked the Navigator.
“Stay behind? Why?”
“I want to stay behind and learn more of their language and culture. I think it will benefit our people if someone does this soon, to avoid any misunderstandings between ourselves and the Pale Ones.”
“I think that’s a good idea Captain. I’d like to stay as well.” said the Priest’s disciple.
“This does sound like a wise decision. If the Pale Ones will allow it I agree with your request.”
Celebrating our Thanks
Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers! I hope that you get a chance to spend time with family and friends and celebrate all that you are thankful for this year. For this holiday's special "did you know?" historical fact, instead of looking at the "First Thanksgiving" with the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock, the familiar story we've learned since childhood, I wanted to take a look at some other fun Thanksgiving Day facts.
When did Thanksgiving Day become a national holiday? During Colonial Times? Right after the American Revolution? The Civil War? In a way, all those answers would be correct in the right light. During the colonial era, most New England colonies celebrated a Day of Thanksgiving in the fall that would be declared yearly by the colonial governor. This would usually be a mix of a religious holiday to give thanks to God, and also a harvest festival to celebrate that years bounty of crops. The first nation wide Thanksgiving was declared by President George Washington, who declared that November 26, 1789 would be "a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God."
Despite this early precedent of proclaiming a national day of thanksgiving, in most years following Washington, days of thanksgiving were declared on a state-by-state basis throughout the Fall. This would change under President Lincoln, and due in large part to the efforts of a woman who is unknown to most: Sarah Josepha Hale. Hale is best known, of all things, for writing the well known nursery rhyme "Mary Had a Little Lamb," which was published in 1830. Hale grew up in New England and was a big supporter of the traditional thanksgiving day celebrations in the New England area. She wrote 5 U.S. Presidents calling on them to make Thanksgiving a national holiday, starting with President Zachary Taylor in 1846. All her pleas fell on deaf ears until President Lincoln, who in 1863 signed into law legislation that made the last Thursday in November as the national Thanksgiving Day to be celebrated in all states. Now, since this was during the U.S. Civil War, this tradition would not reach the states of the Confederacy until after 1865. When Lincoln signed this legislation, Thanksgiving Day became the third official national holiday in the United States after Independence Day and Washington's Birthday.
When did Thanksgiving Day become a national holiday? During Colonial Times? Right after the American Revolution? The Civil War? In a way, all those answers would be correct in the right light. During the colonial era, most New England colonies celebrated a Day of Thanksgiving in the fall that would be declared yearly by the colonial governor. This would usually be a mix of a religious holiday to give thanks to God, and also a harvest festival to celebrate that years bounty of crops. The first nation wide Thanksgiving was declared by President George Washington, who declared that November 26, 1789 would be "a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God."
Despite this early precedent of proclaiming a national day of thanksgiving, in most years following Washington, days of thanksgiving were declared on a state-by-state basis throughout the Fall. This would change under President Lincoln, and due in large part to the efforts of a woman who is unknown to most: Sarah Josepha Hale. Hale is best known, of all things, for writing the well known nursery rhyme "Mary Had a Little Lamb," which was published in 1830. Hale grew up in New England and was a big supporter of the traditional thanksgiving day celebrations in the New England area. She wrote 5 U.S. Presidents calling on them to make Thanksgiving a national holiday, starting with President Zachary Taylor in 1846. All her pleas fell on deaf ears until President Lincoln, who in 1863 signed into law legislation that made the last Thursday in November as the national Thanksgiving Day to be celebrated in all states. Now, since this was during the U.S. Civil War, this tradition would not reach the states of the Confederacy until after 1865. When Lincoln signed this legislation, Thanksgiving Day became the third official national holiday in the United States after Independence Day and Washington's Birthday.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
The First Thanksgiving - Part 1
The captain looked out at the horizon, pleading with the Creator for there to be land. His ship had been sailing for many many weeks, and his sailors and the settlers they carried were restless. They'd lost several to disease and malnutrition, something that couldn't be helped on such a long voyage into what might as well be the unknown, but had nevertheless began to undermine the moral of those aboard. All those many weeks ago, leaving home for the legendary land of the Pale, the so-called "New World," had seemed like a good alternative to having to face the consequences of his brother's faction loosing power in the capital. Now, however, with no end in sight to the Great Sea, his belief in the Land of the Sunrise seemed foolish.
Just then, a lookout cried out, "Land, Land!" The captain's gaze rescanned the horizon, squinting to see what the lookout did. And sure enough, there it was. A sliver of green, still vague in form, that was obviously NOT ocean. "Land!" cried out the captain, and soon shouts of excitement and thanksgiving were heard from all those aboard, as they strained to see what they hoped would be their new home.
A few hours later, with the sun setting behind them, they were upon the coast. It was green. Patches of forest came to the rocky coastline, which in places rose up into magnificent cliffs. The ship laden with hopeful explorers and pioneers, who gazed out at the foreign land they hoped to tame as their own, cruised along the coast for a time, before the crew spotted a beach they felt would be good to make a landing. They lowered the anchor, and the captain announced that in the morning, they would make landfall.
As dawn poked above the horizon, the crew moved about the deck, preparing the small row boats to be lowered into the water. It had been decided that the women and children aboard would not venture out yet, but wait a day or two until the warriors and secured an area for the settlers to camp until a more permanent location could be found to settle. The captain was among those going ashore that morning. He was excited. He was also nervous. He would be among the first of his people to set foot in the New World. There had been only one or two voyages here before this, and no one really know what this place was like. He looked out over the water as the row boat he was in crossed the distance from the ship to the beach. Things looked familiar, and yet different as well.
The captain looked into the roaring fire as he listened to the priest that had accompanied the landing party offer thanks to the Creator for the safe voyage and for providing them with this apparently bountiful land. Listening to the words of the prayers, some of which would be standard in any religious ceremony, felt like being back home again to the captain. A little bit of their culture transplanted halfway across the world to the land of the Pale. It was a fitting way to mark their first night ashore. The day had been successful. They'd explored the woods near the shore, and discovered a good-sized stream that had fresh water. They thought that they could find a good settlement spot the next day by following the stream. One of the men who'd come with them ashore had been an engineer back in the capital, and he was already laying out where the settlers could erect a small wharf and then cut a road to the stream and then follow that to wherever they decided to build the main settlement. The captain liked the idea, even if it might have seemed ambitious to some.
One of the warriors leaned over to talk to the captain after the priest had finished his prayers, asking, "Captain, do you think we will see any of the natives soon?"
"It is possible. From what the legends say, the land of the Pale Ones is vast, so we may have landed in an area where they do not live."
"Oh I hope not. I want to see a real live native savage from this land."
"And why would you want to do that?" the Captain asked.
"For one, so I can see for myself that they exist! And I also hope that they can lead us to the great piles of Gold that the legends say are here in the New World."
The Captain laughed. "You really believe the legends about the gold?"
The young warrior shook his head in the affirmative. "I think it's possible. Who knows what sort of strange and amazing things could be waiting for us here."
The captain grinned at the youth's enthusiasm. They'd all heard the legends of what existed here in the New World. Back a few hundred years before, at least according to legend, a small band of men and women came across the Great Sea from the New World to set up a settlement in a land neighboring the captain's own homeland. They claimed that more of them would follow, but they never did. Eventually, the small band was said to have intermarried with the local people. The Captain himself had seen a few envoys in the capital from that land, one of whom claimed lineage to those strangers from across the sea, and his complexion did seem lighter than that of his other countrymen. Belief in strange, pale men inhabiting this new land, but the idea of piles of gold laying around, that was asking too much of the imagination, in the Captain's opinion.
Just then, a lookout cried out, "Land, Land!" The captain's gaze rescanned the horizon, squinting to see what the lookout did. And sure enough, there it was. A sliver of green, still vague in form, that was obviously NOT ocean. "Land!" cried out the captain, and soon shouts of excitement and thanksgiving were heard from all those aboard, as they strained to see what they hoped would be their new home.
A few hours later, with the sun setting behind them, they were upon the coast. It was green. Patches of forest came to the rocky coastline, which in places rose up into magnificent cliffs. The ship laden with hopeful explorers and pioneers, who gazed out at the foreign land they hoped to tame as their own, cruised along the coast for a time, before the crew spotted a beach they felt would be good to make a landing. They lowered the anchor, and the captain announced that in the morning, they would make landfall.
As dawn poked above the horizon, the crew moved about the deck, preparing the small row boats to be lowered into the water. It had been decided that the women and children aboard would not venture out yet, but wait a day or two until the warriors and secured an area for the settlers to camp until a more permanent location could be found to settle. The captain was among those going ashore that morning. He was excited. He was also nervous. He would be among the first of his people to set foot in the New World. There had been only one or two voyages here before this, and no one really know what this place was like. He looked out over the water as the row boat he was in crossed the distance from the ship to the beach. Things looked familiar, and yet different as well.
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The captain looked into the roaring fire as he listened to the priest that had accompanied the landing party offer thanks to the Creator for the safe voyage and for providing them with this apparently bountiful land. Listening to the words of the prayers, some of which would be standard in any religious ceremony, felt like being back home again to the captain. A little bit of their culture transplanted halfway across the world to the land of the Pale. It was a fitting way to mark their first night ashore. The day had been successful. They'd explored the woods near the shore, and discovered a good-sized stream that had fresh water. They thought that they could find a good settlement spot the next day by following the stream. One of the men who'd come with them ashore had been an engineer back in the capital, and he was already laying out where the settlers could erect a small wharf and then cut a road to the stream and then follow that to wherever they decided to build the main settlement. The captain liked the idea, even if it might have seemed ambitious to some.
One of the warriors leaned over to talk to the captain after the priest had finished his prayers, asking, "Captain, do you think we will see any of the natives soon?"
"It is possible. From what the legends say, the land of the Pale Ones is vast, so we may have landed in an area where they do not live."
"Oh I hope not. I want to see a real live native savage from this land."
"And why would you want to do that?" the Captain asked.
"For one, so I can see for myself that they exist! And I also hope that they can lead us to the great piles of Gold that the legends say are here in the New World."
The Captain laughed. "You really believe the legends about the gold?"
The young warrior shook his head in the affirmative. "I think it's possible. Who knows what sort of strange and amazing things could be waiting for us here."
The captain grinned at the youth's enthusiasm. They'd all heard the legends of what existed here in the New World. Back a few hundred years before, at least according to legend, a small band of men and women came across the Great Sea from the New World to set up a settlement in a land neighboring the captain's own homeland. They claimed that more of them would follow, but they never did. Eventually, the small band was said to have intermarried with the local people. The Captain himself had seen a few envoys in the capital from that land, one of whom claimed lineage to those strangers from across the sea, and his complexion did seem lighter than that of his other countrymen. Belief in strange, pale men inhabiting this new land, but the idea of piles of gold laying around, that was asking too much of the imagination, in the Captain's opinion.
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The men and women settlers, along with the warriors and most of the sailors, had been working for several weeks to clear the settlement site that they first landing party had selected. The site lay about half a mile from the shore, along the small stream that had been discovered. The brush had been cleared, and the first shelters had already been started and were in various phases of completion. The captain surveyed the scene. He was impressed with what they'd done. At a high point, a small hill that rose above the rest of the settler's village, men were working on the small gathering house that would also serve as a temple. A sacred fire had already been started and kept burning day and night by the priest and his two disciples. back down from the hill, more men were working on clearing a path that would lead to the sea and the small wharf that would be built there. Hopefully within a month, they could unload the rest of the supplies, and the ship would return across the Great Sea to the homeland. Lost in his thoughts for the future, the Captain failed to hear what someone shouted in his direction the first time. Coming back to the present, he looked about and heard, "Pale Ones! There are Pale Ones!"
That got his attention. The Captain whirled around in the direction of the shout, and saw one of the female settlers pointing to the tree-line on the opposite bank of the stream. And sure enough, there were a small band of men, in strange clothes and...so pale. So the stories were true. This WAS the land of the Pale Ones......
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