The Captain
At last, the scummiest vessel on water
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
It wasn't a home worth calling home, but it was our one and only shelter for now
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
‘Where’d you hear that song from, lad?’
A young colt, with fiery yellow eyes and a mahogany coat, looked up from his sitting place. Facing him was a rough-looking older stallion with a full beard of hair that seemed forever unshaven and a bright red jacket hanging unbuttoned over his back.
‘My father sang it to me when I was younger,’ the colt replied. ‘He’d always talk about the seas, Captain. Told me all sorts of tales about far off lands’—The colt sniffed—’but I always knew they weren’t true. All there is out here is water.’
The Captain gave the boy a firm slap on the back and laughed. ‘There’s some truth to that, Kid. I’m sure you’ll get used to the high seas in due time.’
The Kid gave him a sheepish smile, then closed his eyes and whispered the song’s verse once more. The Captain grinned and left him to his song, taking more interest in the vessel that he and his crew took to calling home—the SS Boone. The ship’s caretaker walked up to the bow of the ship, looked behind him, and settled into his surroundings.
The ship was a simple wooden ship, with floorboards creaking and softening at a mere touch, a steering wheel littered with cracked edges and a swaying, splintered mast in the centre. What he saw, others did not see: pure beauty.
‘Ah... remember when I built your mast, Boone?’ the Captain said, smiling. ‘Bet you’re not used to seeing twelve new faces climbing aboard.’ Scattered abovedeck, several ponies—not one of them looking the least bit seaworthy—all went about their business. ‘A makeshift crew no doubt, but we’ll make it to new land, Boone. We’ll make it.’
‘Hey, Captain,’ a soft voice said from behind him. The Captain turned around and saw the Singer, a young filly with deep hazel eyes, watching him intently. She did not say anything more.
‘Eh, hello?’ the Captain replied. ‘Is there something I can do for you, lassie?’
‘Are we going back to the mainland anytime soon?’ the Singer said, tilting her head. ‘I think after a day on the sea, the Plague might have disappeared.’
The Captain bit his lip. ‘Well, um, not exactly,’ he stammered. ‘The Plague destroyed everything. It’d be far too dangerous to go back and try and live where we used to, like we used to.’
‘So what’s the plan, then?’ a new voice, on the Captain’s right, questioned bitterly. The voice was weak and slow, and its owner covered with wrinkles and trembling slightly. ‘I’m sick of calling everyone these “titles” instead of their real names.’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ the Captain said. ‘It makes things easier for the crew to identify themselves. We already went through this, Senior, we need to find lan—’
‘To hell we need to find land,’ the Senior exclaimed, raising his voice. ‘We’re not gonna find any. Haven’t you listened to our mayor? There’s nothing out in these waters.’
‘The mayor is dead, Senior.’
‘We’re doomed... doomed.’ The Senior looked down for a moment and sniffled. As though ashamed of this sign of weakness, he picked himself up, grunted and left the bow of the ship. The Captain and the Singer stared back in confusion.
‘You and the Kid have got to be at least ten times younger than that old coot,’ the Captain remarked, ‘but at least you’ve got more sense. If we’re the only ones who survived that calamity, then I think the future is in good hands.’
‘Why’d you call us the Crew, Captain?’
‘Well, a crew is sort of like a family. I know we aren’t a family right now, especially with cold hearts like that old pony over there’—The Captain scoffed—’but I’m sure we’ll all warm up to each other soon. We have to if we’ll stay here for long.’
‘And how long is that, sir?’
The Captain opened his mouth in response, but only air passed through. He pondered for a moment, then said plainly: ‘I’m not sure, lassie. But we’ll get somewhere, and when we do, everything will be alright.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be a fun adventure, Captain.’
‘Aye.’ The Captain scanned the ship and found two ponies, a mare and a stallion, speaking to each other as the stallion laid his hoof around her. ‘Those are your parents, right?’
The Singer nodded.
‘They might be willing to hit the hay soon,’ the Captain said, looking out to the horizon; the darkened sun was almost out of sight. ‘Sunset’s nearly finished. Oh, and if anyone calls your parents Husband or Wife, don’t worry too much.’
‘I thought the titles came from their duties, Captain.’
‘Eh, I suppose they’re an exception. I’m sure something better will stick later.’
The Singer smiled, waved a quick goodbye and dashed away from the Captain. She ran along to her parents, who noticed her coming and opened a leg each for a hug.
The Captain sighed. ‘You’re all that I’ve got left, Boone. Lacey... Lacey didn’t make it.’
The plank of wood underneath the Captain creaked under his weight.
‘You’re all that I’ve got left.’ The Captain sat down in front of the cracked wheel and tilted his head down. His teeth started biting through the air next to the coat, and within a few moments, found purchase on a small nib extruding from one of his pockets. He yanked out a curved wooden pipe that now rested firmly in his mouth, and with one of his idle hooves, fumbled out a golden lighter from another pocket. With his hoof holding on tight, he flicked the lighter’s cap open, revealing a flame that soon met its mark at the opening of the pipe.
Finished with his work, the Captain set down his lighter, relaxed his muscles and inhaled deeply.
'Smoking a pipe, Captain?' the Kid said, making his way to the bow. 'That's not too good for you, is it?'
'Nah, not terribly so,' the Captain replied. 'But, unless we reach land that grows tobacco, this is the last opportunity I have to taste it. The world could potentially never see it again.'
'Huh.' The Kid sat down next to the Captain and had a puff of smoke drift off into his face. He gave a slight cough. 'I never really thought of it that way. Same goes for a lot of things, really.'
'Maybe there will be civilization wherever we land.' The Captain spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. The Kid frowned.
'Do you really think we'll succeed in settling somewhere?'
The Captain sighed. 'I don't know, lad. We can't go back, and we don't know what's out there, but it's the only chance we've got. Maybe we can start calling each other by our real names once—if we get there.'
'I'm glad you aren't just telling me what I want to hear because I'm young,' the Kid said, smiling. 'My dad was the same way. Told me he wanted to raise me to be an honest stallion.'
'He sounds like a smart pony.' The Captain took another puff of his pipe. The smoke drifted to the Kid, but he did not cough. 'Well, on my side, I'm glad you aren't going into some comatose state for all that happened. You know that everyone's dealing with it and acting with respect—except for that couple and their daughter. Lucky family, that one is.'
'Yeah. Saw the Chef crying when he was making the stew this afternoon.'
The Captain chuckled. 'It's horrible to think that that's funny, but all I can think about is him crying into my stew. Losing those you love is saddening, but we're all on the same boat. Heh. Same boat.' The Captain sat silent for a minute, moving only to take another drag of the tobacco. 'Say, would you mind singing me another verse of that song your father made, if there are more?'
The Kid nodded.
The ship was jostled and thrown about
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
The captain cried out to the ocean, begging for his pride and joy to be spared
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
The Captain smiled. 'I never really spent much time in the settlements back home. Would've loved to meet your father.'
The two sat in silence. The pipe soon had nothing more to burn but the smouldering ashes that sprinkled down to the floor like scorched snow, and the Captain looked down at it, frowning. He replaced it into his jacket pocket.
'And thus ends the era of tobacco in this world. A shame, really. Alas, it means I should go check on the rest of the ponies here instead of watching some of this sunset with ol' Boone.'
'I’d be fine with watching the sunset alone,' the Kid replied, smiling.
The Captain stood up, grunting, and made his way belowdecks. At the bottom of the stairs leading down, the Stranger, with a wide-brimmed hat angled down, leaned up against the wall. A wooden pipe similar to the Captain's own protruded out the edge.
'Good day, Wayfarer,' the Stranger said in a rough voice, keeping his eyes hidden behind his hat.
'Most of the folks here call me the Captain now,' the Captain replied. 'I suppose it's too late to call you the Stranger, eh?'
'You can call me whatever you wish, Wayfarer. Know that I'll call you by your real name, though.'
The Captain made a nervous chuckle. 'You got any tobacco left? I thought my stock was the last on the planet.'
'This is the last of mine,' the Stranger said, exhaling a puff of smoke. 'Was just abovedeck for a second, but I noticed something. A storm's coming.'
'There aren't any clouds in the sky.'
The Stranger laughed. 'You're more attune to these sort of things than I am. You know it's coming. Has everyone been informed to stay belowdecks during a severe storm?'
'Yes. It'll be a brief storm, anyway—quick and painless.'
'I wouldn't say so.'
Silence.
'The Diplomat and the Officer already went to sleep. If the storm starts soon, I'd get them up as soon as possible.'
The Captain nodded. 'Thanks. They were what I was down here for. Didn't think you of all ponies needed looking after.'
'Damn right.' Smoke ceased to escape from the Stranger's pipe. 'Looks like that's the end of tobacco for good, then.'
'Heh. Said that earlier, didn't know you had any.'
The Stranger lifted the pipe away from his mouth and placed it on the floor. 'Worthless antique now, quite a shame really. If I were you, I'd go watch the final stages of the sunset. It’d be better with some tobacco, but it seems nice enough tonight that it'd be a pleasure to watch anyway.'
The Captain nodded. 'You aren't coming?'
'I've watched enough sunsets in my time. Probably not as many as Senior—on that note, go easy on him. He seems more distressed than the others who lost their families. I can only imagine having a lengthier marriage had something to do with it.'
The Captain nodded once more. He left for abovedecks without another word, and to his relief, the sun was still setting—but only just. The waters close to the ship were nearly black, but as he looked out closer and closer to the horizon, a golden shine brightened everything he could see. For a moment, it beckoned to him. He leaned over the edge of the ship, inching closer, closer...
The Captain's eyes and body relaxed as the sun faded from view. His trance of the water ceased to be. The last words he heard before retiring for the night, as sung by the Kid, was another verse of Old World's Privateers.
The captain remained the last one on the ship
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
The captain's crew haunted him, the madness had already taken his mind
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
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Let's get this show on the rooooooooad!
Let's see this thing sail it's way into the feature box!
There's certainly a story in here, but it's a bit too vague as it currently stands. Not quite a pony story yet, you know?
That being said, I think I'm going to keep an eye on this one.
I'm going to watch this one with interest. I'm still confused, but I hope that everything gets made clearer on down the road. It's an intriguing setup, though.
I like this. I want to see more of these characters, I want to learn more about the plague, and I want them all to hit dry land eventually.
Some suggestions.
First off: when someone is talking, you use double quotation marks, not single quotes. It should be "something", not 'something'.
This description is incorporated terribly into the text. It doesn't flow. You just kind of crammed it in there very awkwardly, without trying to make it flow into things.
This sort of thing (a synonym for said, followed by an adjective) work alright, but the trouble is that they can also really pull the reader's attention when you don't want them to, or be repetitive with the text. In this case, the "bitterly" is kind of pointless; we already have him complaining, so there's little need to add in the bitterly here. There are other ways of saying this as well - possibly using body language. Possibly have him spit.
There is also a bit of awkwardness from the positional notation here; there's really little reason to note it, because the fact that he's on the right doesn't really matter.
I also don't really get the need for the nicknames. The character highlights it but they don't really seem to add anything to the story.
Awww yeah.
Here we go, you finally released it.
~Skeeter The Lurker
4674843 I'm gonna rebut these in a sec.
There is no reason as to why single quotes should be an issue. In the British lands and the Commonwealth, it is common practice to use single quotes and has never been an issue for me or writers such as Aldous Huxley, J.R.R. Tolkien and George Orwell who use them in their stories.
The name of the chapter is The Captain, which I would hope would offer a hint that it's largely focused on how the captain is seeing things--even without this, it follows him throughout the chapter. He only catches a quick description of the filly before he has the chance to speak. It WOULD be awkward if he were to have a long description of the filly or holding some sort of focus on her in the short time between her speaking and him speaking. It was a highlight of the general traits she owns, being her eyes and her coat.
As for the bitterly comment, that's fine. Solid advice.
Positional notation? I'm a tad lost here, not going to lie.
Nicknames are a problem? Honestly? It's clearly a thing that has a reason to be there, otherwise... well, there would be no nicknames. I don't see how you believing that there isn't a point to them would make it so, or why it would be an objective issue.
No upvote from me. No downvote, either, but I was completely lost for most of the story. The bit at the end was nice, but I'm still not sure exactly what happened. It feels like this picked up in the middle of a story -- that this is chapter 3 or 4, maybe, but not the first.
I'll favorite because I want to see where it goes, but if it doesn't improve fairly soon I won't be making myself read more.
I'm not sure whether I should report those lyrics for plagiarism or not. =__=
I like the story, but... stealing from Barrett's Privateers like that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. You didn't even give credit where it's due....
EDIT: Reported for plagiarism and downvoted until such time as Stan Rogers is credited or the lyrics are removed. I sincerely hope you only have to remove the lyrics, or get off with a warning. I enjoy your work, yipyapper, but plagiarism should be above you.
EDIT the second: Downvote changed to upvote due to proper credit being given.
4684949 Plagiarism? Excuse me?
I respect Stan Rogers (RIP) more than a lot of other legends in Canada. The lyrics were based off of the song, but a lot of the problem I think is more because the same format is used and it seemed a whole lot worse than it actually was. Only one or two lines actually had most of the words derived from the song, and the vast, vast majority were substituted.
I will put in a note for Rogers, which I should have done in the first place, but please don't accuse me of that crap.
4685101
Yes, plagiarism. No doubt you've heard of it.
From Wikipedia:
"Plagiarism is the "wrongful appropriation" and "stealing and publication" of another author's "language, thoughts, ideas, or expressions" and the representation of them as one's own original work."
You just admitted to basing the song off of his work, yet you neglected to give him credit. In the eyes of many, this could be seen as disrespectful, though I understand that basing the song in the story off of his work could also be treated as a sign of respect. However, not giving him credit detracts from this.
I accuse you and rightfully so. You might not have understood what you did was plagiarism, but the fact that it was plagiarism remains true. Please don't try to argue against it; accept what it was, that you were at fault, and move on. I've changed my downvote to an upvote since you credited the late Mr. Rogers in your AN.
In any case, I look forward to seeing where this story goes from here.
4685138 You accuse me? I already mentioned that I should've given a note that he inspired the lyrics, and rightfully I did. The thing is, though, is that I used the format of the song to make the lyrics, not the words from the song itself.
Picture this: a great deal of blues songs paints the same structure for their songs. Is it considered plagiarism to use the "bum buuuhhhh bum buh" line in all of these songs? Was it illegal for "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to use a piece of "More Than a Feeling"'s riff to make angsty teenagers everywhere rejoice? No. If I had blatantly put in "I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier", that'd be plagiarism. If I had even put in "I'm a broken pony on a Ponyville pier", that'd be crappy. But not "Now we're all bro-ken from our toils and times". Some moments, it obviously shows inspiration from the song, but more as a homage with lines like "The last of Barrett's privateers" to "The last of Old World's privateers". But it's enough that I needed to come up with new content that is now rightfully attributed to Stan Rogers.
4685183
Please stop trying to justify it. What's done is done. It was plagiarism, whether intentional or not.
You've credited Mr. Rogers, and I'm satisfied with that.
4685218 I'll end it if you like, but you're being rather obtuse. Saying "it is what it is" without replying to my retort isn't really proving your point any harder.
4685224
You proved my point yourself in your first reply. You intentionally based the song in the story on Barrett's Privateers, by Stan Rogers, and did not credit him for the lyrics, format, etc. This is a clear case of publishing something significantly based upon his song as your own, original work, which by your admission, it is not.
It is what it is. I don't have to prove my point further, as it has already been proven. You've rectified the lack of credit being given, which was the main reason I was objecting to your appropriation of Mr. Rogers' song.
Please stop arguing about it. You were in the wrong, you have since rectified that wrong, and life goes on. Lesson learned: Give credit where it's due.
4685218
4685224
Ah man, good stuff.
4685224
4685218
Lol'd
4685295
See? The Fimfiction community can be self-policing, sometimes!
That said, please don't eat me.
4685307
*please see reply to Meeester*
4685312
Thing is is that parodies don't need to actually credit the artists. Look at Weird Al. He only does it to respect the original artists, and only had one falling out with Coolio, I believe it was. Anyways, keep policing.
4685349
I guess that makes sense. Uh... derp. I probably was a little harsh on him because I enjoy the song and it's of personal significance (My dad played it endlessly when I was younger).
That aside, I'd just rather this sort of thing be credited, especially since original lyrics are still included.
I'll try. Keep being an awesome staff member. o7
Much potential this has. Keep an eye on it, I will. (Couldn't resist.
) The only thing this was missing was a hook (definition: a dynamic entrance 
)