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160 results for “ferryfm”
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@Ttubretep #offk *record scratch* You might wonder how I ended up in this situation. It all began when I had to cross a river and didn't have a dime on me to pay the ferryman who said that's alright.
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Global News BC: BC Ferry commissioner OKs 9.2% yearly fare hikes https://globalnews.ca/news/9594559/bc-ferry-fare-hike/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #bcferrycommissioner #BritishColumbia #bcferryservice #bcferrysubsidy #ferryfarehikes #bcferryfares #Ferryfares #BCFerries #Transport #Politics #BCNDP
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As late as the 1960's, this unassuming hut in Alnmouth, Northumberland, was where the ferrymen sheltered when they weren't rowing people across the River Aln.
This days, it's filled with old photographs and other items of local memorabilia.
Entry is free and Alnmouth Parish Council think it has to be smallest museum in the country! -
@stevegiordano great pics Steve! :)
As you can’t search for words but only for hashtags, you might want to add
#ferryflying #pilot #Boeing #B767 #flightcrew and maybe more 👍🏻 -
The Witch
he/they
a #witchy, #gothic, #oraclereader who works with the #dead, reads from #thefortyservants, and is a #ferryman for #hades
bit of a femmeboy
https://youtu.be/lyjgw3gczgM
🔮
#dissociativeidentitydisorder #did #systemintro #theperseids -
The Witch
he/they
a #witchy, #gothic, #oraclereader who works with the #dead, reads from #thefortyservants, and is a #ferryman for #hades
bit of a femmeboy
https://youtu.be/lyjgw3gczgM
🔮
#dissociativeidentitydisorder #did #systemintro #theperseids -
The Witch
he/they
a #witchy, #gothic, #oraclereader who works with the #dead, reads from #thefortyservants, and is a #ferryman for #hades
bit of a femmeboy
https://youtu.be/lyjgw3gczgM
🔮
#dissociativeidentitydisorder #did #systemintro #theperseids -
"Ignition" wants to set "The Nevers" aflame, but instead we're left with more questions than answers. My #review is here: https://impendingfascination.com/ignition-the-nevers-episode-three/
#amaliatrue #bonfireannie #drhauge #ferrymansclub #frankmundi #hugoswann #ignition #josswhedon #lavinabidlow #maladie #marybrighton #penanceadair #thebeggarking #TheNevers #theneversignition
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hello second life folks! fantasy faire is open! KZK's booth is here: https://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Vervaine%20Moors/163/189/62
umbra was not able to finish the yinglet in time (soon! but he did Not want to crunch that hard for this deadline), so he has got three other goodies available!
- A round glowy glowy wrought iron style lantern pre-fit for regular humanoid/anthro avs + the Ferryman
- The basalt columns & stepping stones folks have been eyeballing in Okarthel for a long time
Proceeds from these go entirely to charity!
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Our first crossover episode for Lost! As we'll be tackling the historical Dark Eras soon, we want to talk about the other nWoD/CofD games that will make an appearance therein. We're starting off with Geist: the Sin-Eaters, a game about death and debts with a carnivalesque feel. Where the Hedge and the Underworld meet, there begins our story... 🪦
Our two cents (for the ferryman): https://changelingthepodcast.com/podcast/episode-134-geist-the-sin-eaters/
#ChangelingTheLost #ctl #GeistTheSinEaters #gtse #nwod #WorldOfDarkness #ttrpg
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Our first crossover episode for Lost! As we'll be tackling the historical Dark Eras soon, we want to talk about the other nWoD/CofD games that will make an appearance therein. We're starting off with Geist: the Sin-Eaters, a game about death and debts with a carnivalesque feel. Where the Hedge and the Underworld meet, there begins our story... 🪦
Our two cents (for the ferryman): https://changelingthepodcast.com/podcast/episode-134-geist-the-sin-eaters/
#ChangelingTheLost #ctl #GeistTheSinEaters #gtse #nwod #WorldOfDarkness #ttrpg
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"Lady in red" - Chris de Burgh
He's miming this time, which isn't as fun as his live performance two weeks ago. And it has the horrible non-rhyme "dance" with "romance", where Chris aspirates "daaaaaaaahnce" as though he doesn't know his own frinkin song.
He's a lot better than this track, but the Grate Record-Buying Public bought the crappy love songs and left "Don't pay the ferryman" and "High on emotion" on the shelves. Grump.
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In 1788, 15 #convicts were #African.
By 1840 the number rose to 500.
David Stuurman, a South African chief transported for anti-colonial #insurrection;
John Caesar, who became Australia’s first #bushranger;
Billy Blue, the stylishly dressed ferryman who gave his name to Sydney’s #BluesPoint;
William Cuffay, London #Chartist who led the development of Australia’s labour movement.
Two young cousins from #Mauritius—girls aged just 9 and 12.https://www.simonandschuster.com.au/books/Black-Convicts/Santilla-Chingaipe/9781761107238
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In 1788, 15 #convicts were #African.
By 1840 the number rose to 500.
David Stuurman, a South African chief transported for anti-colonial #insurrection;
John Caesar, who became Australia’s first #bushranger;
Billy Blue, the stylishly dressed ferryman who gave his name to Sydney’s #BluesPoint;
William Cuffay, London #Chartist who led the development of Australia’s labour movement.
Two young cousins from #Mauritius—girls aged just 9 and 12.https://www.simonandschuster.com.au/books/Black-Convicts/Santilla-Chingaipe/9781761107238
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In 1788, 15 #convicts were #African.
By 1840 the number rose to 500.
David Stuurman, a South African chief transported for anti-colonial #insurrection;
John Caesar, who became Australia’s first #bushranger;
Billy Blue, the stylishly dressed ferryman who gave his name to Sydney’s #BluesPoint;
William Cuffay, London #Chartist who led the development of Australia’s labour movement.
Two young cousins from #Mauritius—girls aged just 9 and 12.https://www.simonandschuster.com.au/books/Black-Convicts/Santilla-Chingaipe/9781761107238
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In 1788, 15 #convicts were #African.
By 1840 the number rose to 500.
David Stuurman, a South African chief transported for anti-colonial #insurrection;
John Caesar, who became Australia’s first #bushranger;
Billy Blue, the stylishly dressed ferryman who gave his name to Sydney’s #BluesPoint;
William Cuffay, London #Chartist who led the development of Australia’s labour movement.
Two young cousins from #Mauritius—girls aged just 9 and 12.https://www.simonandschuster.com.au/books/Black-Convicts/Santilla-Chingaipe/9781761107238
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On video, Chris de Burgh with "Missing you". Chris mopes in an expensive restaurant where couples are being affectionate to each other, and we see something of a foxtrel who is far too attractive for Mr. de Bleurgh.
As good as Chris's singing is on this MOR song, it's many miles from his best. "High on emotion" and "Don't pay the ferryman" are lost classics - at least as far as the charts are concerned.
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For @neurothing's #ThursdayFiveList prompted by @sproing #TheWorkOfArt
Humanfly - Poetry of Light
https://humanfly.bandcamp.com/track/poetry-of-lightOld Gods - Snakeoil Painting 1
https://oldgods.bandcamp.com/track/snakeoil-painting-1AGATHA - The Hard Life Of Last Minute Lyric Writers
https://agatha.bandcamp.com/track/the-hard-life-of-last-minute-lyric-writersShreikback - The Painter Paints
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGqLRZ3fo2oFerryman - Writer's Block
https://ferrymanrock.bandcamp.com/track/writers-block -
I have a soft spot for #typefaces that don’t really count as #blackletter but are infused with characteristics of broken script. Think Fanfare (Louis Oppenheim, 1929), ITC Honda (Bonder & Carnase, 1970), or, more recently, Eskapade Fraktur (Alisa Nowak, 2012) and Birra Bruin (Elena Schneider, 2019).
Felix Braden’s Ferryman is a fine new addition to this hybrid genre, and a convenient one: it comes in a full range of weights, with italics.
Now out on Floodfonts:
https://www.floodfonts.com/ferryman/ -
CW: CW: Long post full of headcanons and lore for my SWTOR-verse, possible trypophobia and/or body horror (an excessive amount of eyes. yes he does it on purpose lmfao), religious themes/religion (sci-fi/Star Wars setting ie. not real-world based)
I fell off the wagon of reposting my old(er) art here so have this dude. Its very fun, I need to draw it more. (and plan to do so hehe)
List of inspirations, both fictional and "real world":
-Hssiss, Sith, Derriphan, Zildrogg(sorta) (Star Wars/SWTOR)
Tokoloshe (Zulu/South African folklore)
Grootslang (Afrikaans/South African folklore)
Banshee (Irish folklore)
Charon/the Ferryman (Greek folklore)
Mimics (D&D)
Death/the Grim reaper in general. Also I was channelling "Eldritch horror God-monster entity" vibes when concepting him and I feel like y'all should know that XDChirikyât (High Sith for "he who causes them to throb and tremble in fear"), my headcanon of one of the (Old) Sith Gods (alongside Zildrogg and others that I have not yet designed). Also known as the Mtiyi'ari ("dragon lord") and Wiszaji-akûti (the "All-Seeing Eye"). He's the Patron God of House Ahaszaai, may or may not be a Derriphan (he won't admit to it if asked hehe :3) and quite literally the God That Will Not Let The Twins Die aka their "plot armour" of sorts (because I decided to do "God won't let me die" but make it funny, and I'm having the time of my fucking life with it /gen LOL)
He has long-standing and very personal beef with Zildrogg from Zakuul. And no he will NOT get over it *wink wink nudge nudge that's a plot point* Talks to Saarai more often than Ni'kasi because Saarai is Psychometric and its currently stuck in a dusty ass tomb on Korriban but y'know, maybe one day the twins will have to dig him outta that ground *wink wink nudge nudge 2.0*
He can be drawn with any number of "floating" eyes but should always have at *least* 5-8 showing (including the 4 on its face!). I like to draw it with one eye above its forehead and 3 underneath its chin, I just think that design slaps, but you can add more eyes if you want and they don't have to be a specific placement/size (only the 4 actually in its face need to stay in the same area). Uhhh I think that's everything I wrote on the actual sheet itself? If you're curious he does have a Toyhou.se page here that you can check out: https://toyhou.se/15822156.chiriky-t :blobcatrave: or feel free to ask questions if you have 'em and I will try to answer them.
I LOVE this guy. Like a Lot. He is skrunkle. Can't wait to draw more of him and the twins and their mom now that I have a drawing tablet (once I get owed art stuff outta the way hehe)
#SWTOR #SWTOR_RP_ReverseZephyrverseAU #SWTORheadcanons #SWTORFanfic_Subterfugeverse #SWTOR_OC_Chirikyât #feral #feralsfw #hssiss
#creaturedesign -
Notable US Book Releases May 2, 2023: Your Cup Runneth Over, #Bibliophiles!
Clytemnestra, Costanza Casati ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Chain-Gang All-Stars, Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
A History of Burning, Janika Oza ⭐⭐⭐⭐
The Ferryman, Justin Cronin ⭐⭐⭐⭐
No Two Persons, Erica Bauermeister
Dear Chrysanthemums: a Novel in Stories, Fiona Sze Lorrain
Lucky Girl, Irene Muchemi-Ndiritu
A Portrait in Shadow, Nicole Jarvis
The Salt Grows Heavy, Cassandra Khaw
To Die Beautiful, Buzzy Jackson
Paper Names, Susie Luo
The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese
La Tercera, Gina Apostol
Your Plantation Prom is not Okay, Kelly McWilliams
Ander & Santi Were Here, Johnny Garza Villa (YA)
Bitterthorn, Kat Dunn (YA)
The Half Moon, Mary Beth Keane
Hula, Jasmine Lolani Hakes
The Secret Book of Flora Lea, Patti Callahan Henry
Hotel Cuba, Aaron Hamburger
The East Indian, Brinda Charry
Blood of The Virgin, Sammy Harkham (GN)
American Arcadia, Laura Scalzo
Innards: Stories, Magogodi oaMphela Makhene -
Filmpje over ‘Panorama de Leeuw’
Op dinsdag 17 februari nam ik de zesde aflevering op van Panorama de Leeuw, het programma dat ik maak voor de Concertzender naar aanleiding van mijn biografie Reinbert de Leeuw, mens of melodie. Hans Bakhuizen maakte in opdracht van de Concertzender een smartphone-filmpje over het waarom en hoe van de uitzendingen. Dit staat inmiddels op YouTube.
In aflevering VI ga ik nader in op De Leeuws docentschap aan het Koninklijk Conservatorium, zijn eindexamen piano aan het Muzieklyceum in Amsterdam en zijn eerste samenwerking met een grote levende componist, Matthijs Vermeulen. De uitzending werd op 4 maart 2015 uitgezonden en is hier terug te luisteren.
Op dinsdag 24 februari bezocht ik een van de laatste voorstellingen van de Nationale Reisopera van De Parelvissers van Georges Bizet in Theater Carré in Amsterdam. Bewonderenswaardig hoe deze ongenadig gekortwiekte organisatie met weinig middelen toch keer op keer weer bijzonder aansprekende producties weet te realiseren.
Twee dagen later verzorgde ik de inleiding bij een concert in het Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ van de pianisten Ralph van Raat en Maarten van Veen en de slagwerkers Colin Currie en Benjamin Ramirez, die een programma presenteerden rond de beroemde Sonate voor twee piano’s en slagwerk van Béla Bartók.
De Britse componist Dave Maric had hierbij een ‘companion piece’ gemaakt onder de titel Trophic Cascades, waarin hij commentaar levert op onze achteloze omgang met het milieu. Ik had boeiende gesprekken met Van Raat, Currie én Maric, wiens stuk bijzonder afwisselend bleek en zelfs een vleugje humor bevatte: op een gegeven moment wisselen de twee pianisten van plaats, waarbij Van Raat een toets ingedrukt houdt, die Van Veen vervolgens met veel hangen en wurgen van hem overneemt.
Thea en Dave Maric 26-3-2015 MGIJ
Een week later presenteerde het Asko|Schönberg o.l.v. Peter Rundel in het Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ de première van het tweede pianoconcert van Frederic Rzewski, A Dog’s Life. De Amerikaanse componist was decennialang als docent verbonden aan het Conservatorium van Luik en heeft me geholpen bij het vinden van informatie over Elie Poslavsky, een belangrijke voorganger van Reinbert de Leeuw. Helaas was Rzewski – net als De Leeuw in 1938 geboren – er niet bij. Zijn stuk was heel geestig, maar bleef niet de volle 30 minuten boeien. Ik schreef erover voor Bachtrack.
Ook komende donderdag 12 maart ben ik te vinden in het Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ, voor een inleiding bij een concert rond Janácek van de Belgische ensembles Het Collectief en Collegium Vocale Gent. Dirigent is Reinbert de Leeuw, die in het verleden Janáceks koormuziek op de kaart zette met het Nederlands Kamerkoor. Hij maakte in 2007 een instrumentatie van diens pianosonate 1.X.1905, die a.s. donderdag ook zal worden uitgevoerd. Ik nodigde Reinbert uit voor de inleiding, maar hij liet weten hiervoor ‘niet vrij’ te zijn. Jammer.
Vandaag kreeg ik bericht van mijn uitgever Dolf Weverink, dat hij voor Leporelle Uitgevers een webshop heeft ingericht. Hier is mijn #Reinbertbio voortaan dus rechtstreeks te bestellen. Na een felicitatie van mijn kant twitterde Dolf:
Dolf Weverink @dweverink 5 u5 uur geleden@tdrks @Boekenweek Dank je Thea! De snelste weg naar de mooiste biografie van 2014! http://leporello.vrijeboeken.com Met dank aan De Vrije Uitgevers
Nu maar hopen dat de jury van de MJ Brusseprijs voor beste journalistieke boek van 2014 er ook zo over denkt. Mijn biografie dingt mee naar deze door het Fonds Bijzondere Journalistieke Projecten opgezette onderscheiding, die jaarlijks wordt uitgereikt. De jury bestaat uit Noraly Beyer, Marcel van Engelen en voorzitter Ferry Mingelen. Duimt allen mee!
Ondertussen ben ik druk met de voorbereidingen voor het festival ter gelegenheid van de 90e verjaardag van Pierre Boulez op 26 maart a.s. Etty Mulder, voorzitter van de Pierre Boulez Stichting heeft mij uitgenodigd om samen met haar de opening te verzorgen van de feestelijkheden in Den Haag op 28 en 29 maart a.s. De Stichting werkt samen met het festival Dag in de Branding en het Koninklijk Conservatorium.
Ik zal op zondag 29 maart de Duitse musicoloog Werner Klüppelholz interviewen over de geschriften van Boulez en zijn relatie tot de andere kunsten. Klüppelholz hielp mij enorm met het onderzoek voor mijn biografie van Reinbert de Leeuw – die tijdens het festival het Residentie Orkest dirigeert in Rituel van Boulez en De Tijd van Louis Andriessen. Zo is de cirkel mooi weer rond.
#ADogSLife #AskoSchönberg #Bachtrack #Bartók #ColinCurrie #CollegiumVocaleGent #Concertzender #ConservatoriumVanLuik #Cultuurpers #DagInDeBranding #DaveMaric #DeTijd #DolfWeverink #EliePoslavsky #EttyMulder #FerryMingelen #FondsBijzondereJournalistiekeProjecten #FredericRzewski #GeorgesBizet #HansBakhuizen #HetCollectief #Janácek #KoninklijkConservatorium #LeporelloUitgevers #LouisAndriessen #MarcelVanEngelen #MatthijsVermeulen #MensOfMelodie #MJBrusseprijs #MuzieklyceumAmsterdam #NationaleReisopera #NoralyBeyer #PanoramaDeLeeuw #Parelvissers #PeterRundel #PierreBoulez #PierreBoulezStichting #RalphVanRaat #ReinbertDeLeeuw #Reinbertbio #ResidentieOrkest #Rituel #Sonate1X1905 #SonateVoor2PianoSEnSlagwerk #TheaDerks #TheaterCarré #TrophicCascades #WernerKlüppelholz
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BRECK: Dead Delivery Chapter Eleven
Daily writing prompt What’s a book that completely surprised you? View all responsesBRECK: Dead Delivery
Chapter Eleven — What You Don’t See Coming
Prompt: What’s a book that completely surprised you? Tags: dailyprompt | Breck | Crestfall | Dead Delivery | Lumenvale
The book was called The Weight of Small Things, and Breck had found it wedged between two loose stones in a courier waystation outside Aldenmere three years ago, left by some previous traveler in the wordless tradition of waystations everywhere — the understanding that what you no longer needed might be exactly what the next person required.
He hadn’t expected anything from it. The cover was water-damaged, the spine cracked and reglued badly, the title so deliberately humble it seemed almost designed to discourage reading. He’d picked it up because the rain had pinned him to the waystation for six hours and he’d exhausted his other options.
It had surprised him completely.
Not because it was grand — it wasn’t. It was a small book about a small life: a river-ferry operator in some unnamed valley town who crossed the same water every day for forty years, taking people from one bank to the other, watching the seasons turn and the faces change and the small human dramas of ordinary existence play out on both sides of a thirty-foot stretch of moving water. No wars. No magic. No destiny arriving to transform the ferryman into something larger than himself. Just a man and a rope and a current and forty years of paying attention.
What had surprised Breck was how much it contained.
He thought about that book now, moving through Crestfall’s midday streets with his satchel across his chest and Pell’s map alive in his memory, because the ferryman had understood something that most people spent their lives circling without quite reaching: that the texture of a thing was in its dailiness, not its exceptions. That the thirty-foot crossing was not preparation for some larger crossing that would eventually come and justify the smaller one. The thirty-foot crossing was the thing itself. Done with attention, it was enough.
Done with attention, almost anything was enough.
He found Jorin at the well.
The young man was drawing water in the particular way of someone performing a task they didn’t need to perform — the movements too deliberate, the focus too careful, the whole posture radiating the studied purposefulness of a person who needed to be somewhere with a reason. He was perhaps twenty-two, dark-haired, with a broad open face that had been designed by nature for uncomplicated emotions and had since been required to host considerably more complicated ones than it had been built for.
He heard Breck coming — the size of him announcing itself in advance the way it always did, the particular displacement of air and attention that preceded him into any space — and his hands tightened on the well rope before he made the deliberate choice to release them.
Breck stopped a few paces away. Close enough to speak quietly. Far enough to leave the young man room to breathe.
“Jorin,” he said.
The young man looked at him with eyes that had been doing difficult calculations for some time and hadn’t yet arrived at a sum they could live with.
“I know who you are,” Jorin said. His voice was carefully level. “I know what happened in the alley last night.”
“Word travels.”
“In Crestfall it does.” He looked back at the well, at the rope in his hands, at the cold water moving in the stone depths below. “Pelk is telling people he fell.”
“I know.”
“Nobody believes him.”
“I know that too.”
The midday light was flat and pale, the sun somewhere behind the overcast making its presence felt without committing to visibility. Around the square the ordinary business of Crestfall continued its careful, head-down rhythm — the eleven stalls, the vendors who moved quickly and spoke quietly and packed early, the architecture of a town that had learned to need very little from any given day.
“You were on the west side of the magistrate’s building,” Breck said. “The second watch. The gap in the coverage runs from the eighth bell to the ninth.”
Jorin said nothing. His jaw was tight.
“You’ve been moving the patrol point,” Breck continued, his voice carrying no judgment, no accusation — simply the flat, accurate quality of a man reading a map he hadn’t drawn. “Not far. Not enough to be noticed. Just enough that the gap is there consistently.”
The silence that followed had a specific texture — the texture of a person standing at the edge of something they had been approaching for a long time and were only now close enough to feel the drop.
“I didn’t know what it would be for,” Jorin said finally. The words came out compressed, as though they’d been held under pressure and he’d only opened a small valve. “When I started. I just — I couldn’t be the reason someone got hurt. So I moved the point. Just in case.” He looked at Breck with the eyes of a man confessing something he’d never expected to say aloud. “I’ve been doing it for four months.”
Four months of small daily choices. Four months of moving a patrol point eight feet west and hoping it mattered to someone, someday, without knowing who or how or whether anything would ever come of it.
The ferryman, Breck thought, crossing the same water every day.
“The miller,” Breck said. “Aldric Moss.”
Jorin’s face changed. Something cracked open in it — not dramatically, the way things cracked open in stories, but the way they cracked open in real life, quietly and with considerable effort, the way a stone cracked when the frost got into it and worked its patient seasonal arithmetic.
“I didn’t know they were going to — ” He stopped. Started again. “I was told it was a property dispute. That he’d be questioned and released.” His hands had found the well rope again and were gripping it the way a man gripped the thing nearest to him when the ground shifted. “By the time I understood what had actually happened, I was already — I’d already — “
“You were already in,” Breck said.
“Yes.”
A sparrow landed on the well’s stone rim between them, regarded the situation with the frank indifference of a creature with no stake in it, and departed.
Breck looked at the young man — at the broad open face carrying its freight of accumulated wrong turns, at the hands that had been moving a patrol point eight feet west for four months on the slim, unspoken hope that it might someday matter. He thought about a book found in a waystation that had no reason to be extraordinary and had been extraordinary anyway. He thought about small things and the weight they carried without announcing it.
“What I’m going to do tonight,” he said, “requires that gap to be there.”
Jorin looked at him. His breathing was shallow, his eyes moving across Breck’s face with the rapid, desperate attention of a man trying to read the full terms of a document he hadn’t expected to be offered.
“And afterward?” he said.
“Afterward you’ll need to not be in Crestfall for a while.” Breck paused, considering the honest version of what came next. “Maybe a long while. You have family south of here?”
“My mother. In Brackfen. Two days’ walk.”
“Go to Brackfen.” He reached into the satchel’s secondary pouch — not the oilskin packet, something else, the money pouch, which was lighter than he preferred but held enough. He set two silver coins on the well’s stone rim beside the sparrow’s abandoned spot. “Tonight, after the eighth bell. Don’t take the main road.”
Jorin looked at the coins. Looked at Breck. Something moved through his expression — the complex, reluctant movement of a young man accepting that the story he was in had reached a point where small choices were no longer available and only large ones remained.
He picked up the coins.
“The gap will be there,” he said.
Breck nodded once. Picked up his satchel. Adjusted the strap across his chest in the habitual, unconscious way, his thumb brushing the bracelet as it passed — not checking it exactly, just acknowledging it, the way a man acknowledged the weight of a thing he’d decided to carry without putting it down.
He walked back across the square toward the inn.
Behind him, Jorin stood at the well with his rope and his water and his two silver coins and the specific quality of relief that came not from a burden being lifted but from finally understanding what the burden had always been preparing you for.
The water in the well moved in its cold stone dark, indifferent and continuous, going nowhere and arriving everywhere, the way water always did.
☕ Enjoyed this story? Writing Lumenvale is how I pay my bills. If these stories are worth something to you, a $1 Ko-fi keeps the forge burning — and tells me this world is worth continuing. 👉 Buy Chadwick a coffee
#adventure #books #Breck #Crestfall #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2763 #DarkFantasy #DeadDelivery #EpicFantasy #fantasy #FantasyFiction #fiction #Free #FreeFantasyFiction #freeFantasyFictionOnline #FreeStory #Lumenvale #shortStory #thriller #writing -
BRECK: Dead Delivery Chapter Eleven
Daily writing prompt What’s a book that completely surprised you? View all responsesBRECK: Dead Delivery
Chapter Eleven — What You Don’t See Coming
Prompt: What’s a book that completely surprised you? Tags: dailyprompt | Breck | Crestfall | Dead Delivery | Lumenvale
The book was called The Weight of Small Things, and Breck had found it wedged between two loose stones in a courier waystation outside Aldenmere three years ago, left by some previous traveler in the wordless tradition of waystations everywhere — the understanding that what you no longer needed might be exactly what the next person required.
He hadn’t expected anything from it. The cover was water-damaged, the spine cracked and reglued badly, the title so deliberately humble it seemed almost designed to discourage reading. He’d picked it up because the rain had pinned him to the waystation for six hours and he’d exhausted his other options.
It had surprised him completely.
Not because it was grand — it wasn’t. It was a small book about a small life: a river-ferry operator in some unnamed valley town who crossed the same water every day for forty years, taking people from one bank to the other, watching the seasons turn and the faces change and the small human dramas of ordinary existence play out on both sides of a thirty-foot stretch of moving water. No wars. No magic. No destiny arriving to transform the ferryman into something larger than himself. Just a man and a rope and a current and forty years of paying attention.
What had surprised Breck was how much it contained.
He thought about that book now, moving through Crestfall’s midday streets with his satchel across his chest and Pell’s map alive in his memory, because the ferryman had understood something that most people spent their lives circling without quite reaching: that the texture of a thing was in its dailiness, not its exceptions. That the thirty-foot crossing was not preparation for some larger crossing that would eventually come and justify the smaller one. The thirty-foot crossing was the thing itself. Done with attention, it was enough.
Done with attention, almost anything was enough.
He found Jorin at the well.
The young man was drawing water in the particular way of someone performing a task they didn’t need to perform — the movements too deliberate, the focus too careful, the whole posture radiating the studied purposefulness of a person who needed to be somewhere with a reason. He was perhaps twenty-two, dark-haired, with a broad open face that had been designed by nature for uncomplicated emotions and had since been required to host considerably more complicated ones than it had been built for.
He heard Breck coming — the size of him announcing itself in advance the way it always did, the particular displacement of air and attention that preceded him into any space — and his hands tightened on the well rope before he made the deliberate choice to release them.
Breck stopped a few paces away. Close enough to speak quietly. Far enough to leave the young man room to breathe.
“Jorin,” he said.
The young man looked at him with eyes that had been doing difficult calculations for some time and hadn’t yet arrived at a sum they could live with.
“I know who you are,” Jorin said. His voice was carefully level. “I know what happened in the alley last night.”
“Word travels.”
“In Crestfall it does.” He looked back at the well, at the rope in his hands, at the cold water moving in the stone depths below. “Pelk is telling people he fell.”
“I know.”
“Nobody believes him.”
“I know that too.”
The midday light was flat and pale, the sun somewhere behind the overcast making its presence felt without committing to visibility. Around the square the ordinary business of Crestfall continued its careful, head-down rhythm — the eleven stalls, the vendors who moved quickly and spoke quietly and packed early, the architecture of a town that had learned to need very little from any given day.
“You were on the west side of the magistrate’s building,” Breck said. “The second watch. The gap in the coverage runs from the eighth bell to the ninth.”
Jorin said nothing. His jaw was tight.
“You’ve been moving the patrol point,” Breck continued, his voice carrying no judgment, no accusation — simply the flat, accurate quality of a man reading a map he hadn’t drawn. “Not far. Not enough to be noticed. Just enough that the gap is there consistently.”
The silence that followed had a specific texture — the texture of a person standing at the edge of something they had been approaching for a long time and were only now close enough to feel the drop.
“I didn’t know what it would be for,” Jorin said finally. The words came out compressed, as though they’d been held under pressure and he’d only opened a small valve. “When I started. I just — I couldn’t be the reason someone got hurt. So I moved the point. Just in case.” He looked at Breck with the eyes of a man confessing something he’d never expected to say aloud. “I’ve been doing it for four months.”
Four months of small daily choices. Four months of moving a patrol point eight feet west and hoping it mattered to someone, someday, without knowing who or how or whether anything would ever come of it.
The ferryman, Breck thought, crossing the same water every day.
“The miller,” Breck said. “Aldric Moss.”
Jorin’s face changed. Something cracked open in it — not dramatically, the way things cracked open in stories, but the way they cracked open in real life, quietly and with considerable effort, the way a stone cracked when the frost got into it and worked its patient seasonal arithmetic.
“I didn’t know they were going to — ” He stopped. Started again. “I was told it was a property dispute. That he’d be questioned and released.” His hands had found the well rope again and were gripping it the way a man gripped the thing nearest to him when the ground shifted. “By the time I understood what had actually happened, I was already — I’d already — “
“You were already in,” Breck said.
“Yes.”
A sparrow landed on the well’s stone rim between them, regarded the situation with the frank indifference of a creature with no stake in it, and departed.
Breck looked at the young man — at the broad open face carrying its freight of accumulated wrong turns, at the hands that had been moving a patrol point eight feet west for four months on the slim, unspoken hope that it might someday matter. He thought about a book found in a waystation that had no reason to be extraordinary and had been extraordinary anyway. He thought about small things and the weight they carried without announcing it.
“What I’m going to do tonight,” he said, “requires that gap to be there.”
Jorin looked at him. His breathing was shallow, his eyes moving across Breck’s face with the rapid, desperate attention of a man trying to read the full terms of a document he hadn’t expected to be offered.
“And afterward?” he said.
“Afterward you’ll need to not be in Crestfall for a while.” Breck paused, considering the honest version of what came next. “Maybe a long while. You have family south of here?”
“My mother. In Brackfen. Two days’ walk.”
“Go to Brackfen.” He reached into the satchel’s secondary pouch — not the oilskin packet, something else, the money pouch, which was lighter than he preferred but held enough. He set two silver coins on the well’s stone rim beside the sparrow’s abandoned spot. “Tonight, after the eighth bell. Don’t take the main road.”
Jorin looked at the coins. Looked at Breck. Something moved through his expression — the complex, reluctant movement of a young man accepting that the story he was in had reached a point where small choices were no longer available and only large ones remained.
He picked up the coins.
“The gap will be there,” he said.
Breck nodded once. Picked up his satchel. Adjusted the strap across his chest in the habitual, unconscious way, his thumb brushing the bracelet as it passed — not checking it exactly, just acknowledging it, the way a man acknowledged the weight of a thing he’d decided to carry without putting it down.
He walked back across the square toward the inn.
Behind him, Jorin stood at the well with his rope and his water and his two silver coins and the specific quality of relief that came not from a burden being lifted but from finally understanding what the burden had always been preparing you for.
The water in the well moved in its cold stone dark, indifferent and continuous, going nowhere and arriving everywhere, the way water always did.
☕ Enjoyed this story? Writing Lumenvale is how I pay my bills. If these stories are worth something to you, a $1 Ko-fi keeps the forge burning — and tells me this world is worth continuing. 👉 Buy Chadwick a coffee
#adventure #books #Breck #Crestfall #dailyprompt #dailyprompt2763 #DarkFantasy #DeadDelivery #EpicFantasy #fantasy #FantasyFiction #fiction #Free #FreeFantasyFiction #freeFantasyFictionOnline #FreeStory #Lumenvale #shortStory #thriller #writing -
By Steel Druhm
Absolva is the long-running “home base” project of Luke Appleton (Blaze Bayley, ex-Iced Earth) and Chris Appleton (Blaze Bayley). Absolva’s biggest claim to fame is that they function as the backing band for Blaze Bayley. When not on the road with Blaze, these cats deliver NWoBHM-inspired classic metal with a strong hard rock influence. Over 6 full-length releases, they’ve shown themselves to be decent songwriters with a sound sitting somewhere between Saxon and Dokken. No Absolva album will blow your doors off, but each one is pleasant enough and easy to digest with a few notable tracks for playlist poaching. Here comes seventh album, Justice, and not much has changed for the Appleton clan. You still get middle-of-the-road traditional metal with a solid floor and a shifting ceiling as song quality moves from decent-but-generic to modestly inspiring. And as usual, you get some pretty damn awful cover art to round things out. Could Justice be the turning point where Absolva escapes the tyranny of second-fiddle status?
As with all prior output, this is solid but not exceptional melodic metal fare with a few fun flash points. Absolva strive for anthems, and on opener “Freedom and Glory,” they hit the mark, aided by vocalist David Marcelis of Lord Volture and Thorium. He provides a solid counterpoint to Chris Appleton’s workmanlike vocals, and the song packs decent energy thanks to the Appleton brothers’ guitar work. It’s a lot like classic Blaze Bayley material, and it sticks the landing. “The Thrill of the Chase” also provides enough sizzle and hooks to entertain, with a winning chorus and some smoking solos. “Against the Odds of Time” goes straight for Dark Saga-era Iced Earth and brings in former IE vocalist Stu Block to accentuate the point. It’s one of the more muscular and rabble-rousing cuts here and delivers solely on classic Iced Earth nostalgia.
Another relatively high point comes on “Find My Identity,” where Ronnie Romero (Sunstorm, The Ferrymen, ex-Rainbow, ex-Vandenburg) adds vocal fire to a very Jorn-ish piece of hard rock/metal. Blaze Bayley himself shows up to offer support for his supporting act on “Atlas (War Between the Gods)” and creates some manly, over-the-top epic metal in the process. As with every Absolva album, there are some lesser cuts that, while not bad, don’t quite hit as hard. “Hero in Your Life” marries Iron Maiden’s guitar work with a more streamlined hard rock approach, and it sort of works, but it’s fairly forgettable. The title track is pretty generic, and “The Streetfighters of Blackford Bridge” sounds like old Def Leppard, and it’s okay but not especially earwormy. Absolva’s problem is that even their better output still sits in that “Good” category, and only rarely do they manage to punch a song higher than that. When you deliver an album with a bunch of good to okay tracks and a few lesser inclusions, it doesn’t do a whole lot to excite the listener and compel repeated plays. At 45 minutes, it seems like they could have/should have chopped a song or two to make for a stronger and more consistent offering.
The band is musically capable. Both Appletons are solid guitarists and showcase some chops with impressive solos and a collection of effective, if simplistic riffs. Chris Appleton is a competent vocalist, but nothing about his delivery is especially ear-grabbing or unique, though at times he does remind me a bit of Blaze. He may be limited vocally, but so were most of the classic NWoBHM frontmen, and that isn’t a big handicap if you have killer songs. Sadly, Absolva never brings enough of those to the party, and the ones with guest vocalists end up working best, which is a worrisome sign.
Justice is a pleasant, but fairly forgettable release with a few nondescript tracks weighing it down and a few successful cuts struggling to drag it back upward, and it ends up walking the line between non-essential and solid. I always root for these guys and check out every album, but I’ve given up on expecting them to craft a truly killer release. After seven albums, this is the Absolva experience, and that’s okay. I can’t help but wish for a little more, though.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rocksector
Websites: absolva.com | facebook.com/absolva | instagram.com/absolva
Releases Worldwide: May 16th, 2025#25 #2025 #Absolva #BlazeBayley #HeavyMetal #IcedEarth #Justice #May25 #NWOBHM #Review #Reviews #RocksectorRecords #UKMetal
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By Steel Druhm
Absolva is the long-running “home base” project of Luke Appleton (Blaze Bayley, ex-Iced Earth) and Chris Appleton (Blaze Bayley). Absolva’s biggest claim to fame is that they function as the backing band for Blaze Bayley. When not on the road with Blaze, these cats deliver NWoBHM-inspired classic metal with a strong hard rock influence. Over 6 full-length releases, they’ve shown themselves to be decent songwriters with a sound sitting somewhere between Saxon and Dokken. No Absolva album will blow your doors off, but each one is pleasant enough and easy to digest with a few notable tracks for playlist poaching. Here comes seventh album, Justice, and not much has changed for the Appleton clan. You still get middle-of-the-road traditional metal with a solid floor and a shifting ceiling as song quality moves from decent-but-generic to modestly inspiring. And as usual, you get some pretty damn awful cover art to round things out. Could Justice be the turning point where Absolva escapes the tyranny of second-fiddle status?
As with all prior output, this is solid but not exceptional melodic metal fare with a few fun flash points. Absolva strive for anthems, and on opener “Freedom and Glory,” they hit the mark, aided by vocalist David Marcelis of Lord Volture and Thorium. He provides a solid counterpoint to Chris Appleton’s workmanlike vocals, and the song packs decent energy thanks to the Appleton brothers’ guitar work. It’s a lot like classic Blaze Bayley material, and it sticks the landing. “The Thrill of the Chase” also provides enough sizzle and hooks to entertain, with a winning chorus and some smoking solos. “Against the Odds of Time” goes straight for Dark Saga-era Iced Earth and brings in former IE vocalist Stu Block to accentuate the point. It’s one of the more muscular and rabble-rousing cuts here and delivers solely on classic Iced Earth nostalgia.
Another relatively high point comes on “Find My Identity,” where Ronnie Romero (Sunstorm, The Ferrymen, ex-Rainbow, ex-Vandenburg) adds vocal fire to a very Jorn-ish piece of hard rock/metal. Blaze Bayley himself shows up to offer support for his supporting act on “Atlas (War Between the Gods)” and creates some manly, over-the-top epic metal in the process. As with every Absolva album, there are some lesser cuts that, while not bad, don’t quite hit as hard. “Hero in Your Life” marries Iron Maiden’s guitar work with a more streamlined hard rock approach, and it sort of works, but it’s fairly forgettable. The title track is pretty generic, and “The Streetfighters of Blackford Bridge” sounds like old Def Leppard, and it’s okay but not especially earwormy. Absolva’s problem is that even their better output still sits in that “Good” category, and only rarely do they manage to punch a song higher than that. When you deliver an album with a bunch of good to okay tracks and a few lesser inclusions, it doesn’t do a whole lot to excite the listener and compel repeated plays. At 45 minutes, it seems like they could have/should have chopped a song or two to make for a stronger and more consistent offering.
The band is musically capable. Both Appletons are solid guitarists and showcase some chops with impressive solos and a collection of effective, if simplistic riffs. Chris Appleton is a competent vocalist, but nothing about his delivery is especially ear-grabbing or unique, though at times he does remind me a bit of Blaze. He may be limited vocally, but so were most of the classic NWoBHM frontmen, and that isn’t a big handicap if you have killer songs. Sadly, Absolva never brings enough of those to the party, and the ones with guest vocalists end up working best, which is a worrisome sign.
Justice is a pleasant, but fairly forgettable release with a few nondescript tracks weighing it down and a few successful cuts struggling to drag it back upward, and it ends up walking the line between non-essential and solid. I always root for these guys and check out every album, but I’ve given up on expecting them to craft a truly killer release. After seven albums, this is the Absolva experience, and that’s okay. I can’t help but wish for a little more, though.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rocksector
Websites: absolva.com | facebook.com/absolva | instagram.com/absolva
Releases Worldwide: May 16th, 2025#25 #2025 #Absolva #BlazeBayley #HeavyMetal #IcedEarth #Justice #May25 #NWOBHM #Review #Reviews #RocksectorRecords #UKMetal
-
By Steel Druhm
Absolva is the long-running “home base” project of Luke Appleton (Blaze Bayley, ex-Iced Earth) and Chris Appleton (Blaze Bayley). Absolva’s biggest claim to fame is that they function as the backing band for Blaze Bayley. When not on the road with Blaze, these cats deliver NWoBHM-inspired classic metal with a strong hard rock influence. Over 6 full-length releases, they’ve shown themselves to be decent songwriters with a sound sitting somewhere between Saxon and Dokken. No Absolva album will blow your doors off, but each one is pleasant enough and easy to digest with a few notable tracks for playlist poaching. Here comes seventh album, Justice, and not much has changed for the Appleton clan. You still get middle-of-the-road traditional metal with a solid floor and a shifting ceiling as song quality moves from decent-but-generic to modestly inspiring. And as usual, you get some pretty damn awful cover art to round things out. Could Justice be the turning point where Absolva escapes the tyranny of second-fiddle status?
As with all prior output, this is solid but not exceptional melodic metal fare with a few fun flash points. Absolva strive for anthems, and on opener “Freedom and Glory,” they hit the mark, aided by vocalist David Marcelis of Lord Volture and Thorium. He provides a solid counterpoint to Chris Appleton’s workmanlike vocals, and the song packs decent energy thanks to the Appleton brothers’ guitar work. It’s a lot like classic Blaze Bayley material, and it sticks the landing. “The Thrill of the Chase” also provides enough sizzle and hooks to entertain, with a winning chorus and some smoking solos. “Against the Odds of Time” goes straight for Dark Saga-era Iced Earth and brings in former IE vocalist Stu Block to accentuate the point. It’s one of the more muscular and rabble-rousing cuts here and delivers solely on classic Iced Earth nostalgia.
Another relatively high point comes on “Find My Identity,” where Ronnie Romero (Sunstorm, The Ferrymen, ex-Rainbow, ex-Vandenburg) adds vocal fire to a very Jorn-ish piece of hard rock/metal. Blaze Bayley himself shows up to offer support for his supporting act on “Atlas (War Between the Gods)” and creates some manly, over-the-top epic metal in the process. As with every Absolva album, there are some lesser cuts that, while not bad, don’t quite hit as hard. “Hero in Your Life” marries Iron Maiden’s guitar work with a more streamlined hard rock approach, and it sort of works, but it’s fairly forgettable. The title track is pretty generic, and “The Streetfighters of Blackford Bridge” sounds like old Def Leppard, and it’s okay but not especially earwormy. Absolva’s problem is that even their better output still sits in that “Good” category, and only rarely do they manage to punch a song higher than that. When you deliver an album with a bunch of good to okay tracks and a few lesser inclusions, it doesn’t do a whole lot to excite the listener and compel repeated plays. At 45 minutes, it seems like they could have/should have chopped a song or two to make for a stronger and more consistent offering.
The band is musically capable. Both Appletons are solid guitarists and showcase some chops with impressive solos and a collection of effective, if simplistic riffs. Chris Appleton is a competent vocalist, but nothing about his delivery is especially ear-grabbing or unique, though at times he does remind me a bit of Blaze. He may be limited vocally, but so were most of the classic NWoBHM frontmen, and that isn’t a big handicap if you have killer songs. Sadly, Absolva never brings enough of those to the party, and the ones with guest vocalists end up working best, which is a worrisome sign.
Justice is a pleasant, but fairly forgettable release with a few nondescript tracks weighing it down and a few successful cuts struggling to drag it back upward, and it ends up walking the line between non-essential and solid. I always root for these guys and check out every album, but I’ve given up on expecting them to craft a truly killer release. After seven albums, this is the Absolva experience, and that’s okay. I can’t help but wish for a little more, though.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rocksector
Websites: absolva.com | facebook.com/absolva | instagram.com/absolva
Releases Worldwide: May 16th, 2025#25 #2025 #Absolva #BlazeBayley #HeavyMetal #IcedEarth #Justice #May25 #NWOBHM #Review #Reviews #RocksectorRecords #UKMetal
-
By Steel Druhm
Absolva is the long-running “home base” project of Luke Appleton (Blaze Bayley, ex-Iced Earth) and Chris Appleton (Blaze Bayley). Absolva’s biggest claim to fame is that they function as the backing band for Blaze Bayley. When not on the road with Blaze, these cats deliver NWoBHM-inspired classic metal with a strong hard rock influence. Over 6 full-length releases, they’ve shown themselves to be decent songwriters with a sound sitting somewhere between Saxon and Dokken. No Absolva album will blow your doors off, but each one is pleasant enough and easy to digest with a few notable tracks for playlist poaching. Here comes seventh album, Justice, and not much has changed for the Appleton clan. You still get middle-of-the-road traditional metal with a solid floor and a shifting ceiling as song quality moves from decent-but-generic to modestly inspiring. And as usual, you get some pretty damn awful cover art to round things out. Could Justice be the turning point where Absolva escapes the tyranny of second-fiddle status?
As with all prior output, this is solid but not exceptional melodic metal fare with a few fun flash points. Absolva strive for anthems, and on opener “Freedom and Glory,” they hit the mark, aided by vocalist David Marcelis of Lord Volture and Thorium. He provides a solid counterpoint to Chris Appleton’s workmanlike vocals, and the song packs decent energy thanks to the Appleton brothers’ guitar work. It’s a lot like classic Blaze Bayley material, and it sticks the landing. “The Thrill of the Chase” also provides enough sizzle and hooks to entertain, with a winning chorus and some smoking solos. “Against the Odds of Time” goes straight for Dark Saga-era Iced Earth and brings in former IE vocalist Stu Block to accentuate the point. It’s one of the more muscular and rabble-rousing cuts here and delivers solely on classic Iced Earth nostalgia.
Another relatively high point comes on “Find My Identity,” where Ronnie Romero (Sunstorm, The Ferrymen, ex-Rainbow, ex-Vandenburg) adds vocal fire to a very Jorn-ish piece of hard rock/metal. Blaze Bayley himself shows up to offer support for his supporting act on “Atlas (War Between the Gods)” and creates some manly, over-the-top epic metal in the process. As with every Absolva album, there are some lesser cuts that, while not bad, don’t quite hit as hard. “Hero in Your Life” marries Iron Maiden’s guitar work with a more streamlined hard rock approach, and it sort of works, but it’s fairly forgettable. The title track is pretty generic, and “The Streetfighters of Blackford Bridge” sounds like old Def Leppard, and it’s okay but not especially earwormy. Absolva’s problem is that even their better output still sits in that “Good” category, and only rarely do they manage to punch a song higher than that. When you deliver an album with a bunch of good to okay tracks and a few lesser inclusions, it doesn’t do a whole lot to excite the listener and compel repeated plays. At 45 minutes, it seems like they could have/should have chopped a song or two to make for a stronger and more consistent offering.
The band is musically capable. Both Appletons are solid guitarists and showcase some chops with impressive solos and a collection of effective, if simplistic riffs. Chris Appleton is a competent vocalist, but nothing about his delivery is especially ear-grabbing or unique, though at times he does remind me a bit of Blaze. He may be limited vocally, but so were most of the classic NWoBHM frontmen, and that isn’t a big handicap if you have killer songs. Sadly, Absolva never brings enough of those to the party, and the ones with guest vocalists end up working best, which is a worrisome sign.
Justice is a pleasant, but fairly forgettable release with a few nondescript tracks weighing it down and a few successful cuts struggling to drag it back upward, and it ends up walking the line between non-essential and solid. I always root for these guys and check out every album, but I’ve given up on expecting them to craft a truly killer release. After seven albums, this is the Absolva experience, and that’s okay. I can’t help but wish for a little more, though.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rocksector
Websites: absolva.com | facebook.com/absolva | instagram.com/absolva
Releases Worldwide: May 16th, 2025#25 #2025 #Absolva #BlazeBayley #HeavyMetal #IcedEarth #Justice #May25 #NWOBHM #Review #Reviews #RocksectorRecords #UKMetal
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Those in peril on the sea: mariners in Victorian Cornwall
A region bordered on three sides by the sea might be expected to be home to a fair number of men described as mariners, seamen, sailors or Royal Navy personnel. In fact, in 1861 there were more of this description than there were fishermen, at least 2,514. ‘At least’ because we would expect a proportion of Cornish seamen to be absent at sea at the time of the census.
Some absent married men could be captured through the description of their wives as both heads of household and wives of mariner/seaman etc and this has been done here. However, the 2,514 (or 2.6 per cent) of seafarers has to be regarded as a minimum. Interestingly, this proportion is not far below that usually cited for Cornish sailors present at the Battle of Trafalgar.
Unlike fishermen, mariners were found on Cornwall’s north as well as south coast, although in far fewer numbers. In the south, they clustered particularly around the estuaries of the Fal and Tamar (in the latter case most being Royal Navy men) as well as the ports of St Ives, Penzance and Hayle in the west. St Ives and Hayle were at one end of the busy trading route to and from the smelting furnaces and coal mines of south Wales, a trade in coal and ore mainly carried in St Ives owned boats.
Mariners clearly also had a fondness for the coast around St Austell Bay and east to Looe. Indeed, the proportion of mariners at Fowey, Cornwall’s premier port in medieval times, was the highest in Cornwall at one in four of its adult male residents.
Another 929 men were recorded in the census as making their living from working on the water – boatmen, watermen, ferrymen, pilots and coastguards. Their distribution on the south coast from Falmouth to Torpoint broadly mirrored that of mariners with the largest numbers, as might be expected, working in and around the two major estuaries. However, the greatest proportion was found on Scilly, where over one in seven men plied their trade on the local waters, while a minimum of at least another one in seven were mariners.
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Those in peril on the sea: mariners in Victorian Cornwall
A region bordered on three sides by the sea might be expected to be home to a fair number of men described as mariners, seamen, sailors or Royal Navy personnel. In fact, in 1861 there were more of this description than there were fishermen, at least 2,514. ‘At least’ because we would expect a proportion of Cornish seamen to be absent at sea at the time of the census.
Some absent married men could be captured through the description of their wives as both heads of household and wives of mariner/seaman etc and this has been done here. However, the 2,514 (or 2.6 per cent) of seafarers has to be regarded as a minimum. Interestingly, this proportion is not far below that usually cited for Cornish sailors present at the Battle of Trafalgar.
Unlike fishermen, mariners were found on Cornwall’s north as well as south coast, although in far fewer numbers. In the south, they clustered particularly around the estuaries of the Fal and Tamar (in the latter case most being Royal Navy men) as well as the ports of St Ives, Penzance and Hayle in the west. St Ives and Hayle were at one end of the busy trading route to and from the smelting furnaces and coal mines of south Wales, a trade in coal and ore mainly carried in St Ives owned boats.
Mariners clearly also had a fondness for the coast around St Austell Bay and east to Looe. Indeed, the proportion of mariners at Fowey, Cornwall’s premier port in medieval times, was the highest in Cornwall at one in four of its adult male residents.
Another 929 men were recorded in the census as making their living from working on the water – boatmen, watermen, ferrymen, pilots and coastguards. Their distribution on the south coast from Falmouth to Torpoint broadly mirrored that of mariners with the largest numbers, as might be expected, working in and around the two major estuaries. However, the greatest proportion was found on Scilly, where over one in seven men plied their trade on the local waters, while a minimum of at least another one in seven were mariners.