Jahandar Qasim @star-led-blog - Tumblr Blog

sea shanties masterpost

“one man cannot bring in the anchor. ten men cannot bring in the anchor. but together we can.”

making this because it’s useful for my specific brand of dramaturgy and i generally have a good deal of feelings about sea shanties. these are the result of far too much time searching around for shanties that are both authentic and have a tune that can be found on the internet. organized by theme.

these can all be done a capella, obviously, but if you want accompaniment, getting your hands on a concertina would be ideal.

General Shanties

Roll the Old Chariot Along (David Coffin)

Haul Away, Joe (The Eskies)

Rant and Roar (Howling Gael)

Haul Away the Bowline (The Exmouth Shantymen)

Departing

Away Rio (David Coffin)

Leave Her, Johnny (Coda)

The Rosabella (skip to 3:15) (Wareham Whalers)

Off to Sea Once More (The Black Irish Band)

Clear Away in the Morning (Great Bay Sailor)

South Australia (Johnny Collins)

Randy Dandy Oh (Johnny Collins)

Girls

With You, Fair Maid (skip to 14:30) (Before the Mast)

Spanish Ladies (unknown artist) (psa this one is in moby-dick!!)

Bully in the Alley (skip to 24:10) (Before the Mast)

London Julie (Three Sheets to the Wind)

Excursion Round the Bay (The Fables)

The Maid of Amsterdam (The Roaring Trowmen)

Storms

Round Cape Horn (Cyril Tawney)

Fish in the Sea (youtube user threelegsomen)

To Old Maui (skip to 9:28) (Before the Mast)

Drinking

The Boatman’s Cure (John Roberts)

Drunken Sailor (Irish Rovers)

Fifteen Men (unknown artist)

Newer/Environmentally Conscious

No More Fish, No More Fisherman (David Coffin)

The Last Leviathan (skip to 13:40) (Fisherman Friends) (bit of a stretch to call this a shanty per se but it’s really good and sad so)

andheyfordavyjones

Reblogging because RAD

But also to add that the version of Fifteen Men linked here is by the Roger Wagner Chorale, arranged by Roger Wagner himself.

#{☸ Sounds | Music}

harricts·:

as much as etta loved the crew, she found herself spending most of her time tucked away in her cabin with the company of her books. she poured over them for hours on end, usually until she was summoned or the act of reading mixed with the rocking of the boat made her feel ill. on this particular day, she emerged from her quarters due to the latter; nausea held her stomach in a vice, and the only readily available remedy was some fresh air. etta strolled around the deck at a leisurely pace, and she seemed to be the only member of the crew doing so. everyone else was focused on their own tasks, and etta was careful not to disturb anyone… though she offered soft greetings to those that did take note of her. it didn’t take long for her to see a familiar profile standing up ahead, and she made the decision to join the lone figure because surely, a little light conversation would serve as a worthy distraction from her motion sickness. ‘ hello, hands, ’ she murmured, coming to a stop next to him and crossing her arms over her chest as she looked out to the water. ‘ i am, yes. though there are no publications on the subject, i think salt air works wonders on a variety of ailments and afflictions. ’ etta turned to glance over the male beside her, and she gave him a small smile. ‘ it is quite a shame it has no affect on most of the cases brought to my attention, though. i’ve not yet found a correlation between deep tissue wounds and the healing properties of the sea air. pity, my job would be a lot easier. ’

Ah, Etta, their resident doctor, and a woman whose accent marked her as an outsider as much as Jahandar’s own. For him it was the mark of a foreigner. For her, one of class. The business of piracy seemed to suit her, though. Jahandar had watched her from her first step on The Mercy - he saw as she winced her way through the callousness of the men and women aboard, and how those winces soon became lesser and lesser, until their was naught on her face but a quiet acceptance when a swabbie came swearing to her with an infected splinter-sore. He watched as she went from wobbling, green-gilled over the deck, to the gentle movements of a woman used to the rock of the ocean. He liked what he saw - a person with dignity, with intelligence, and with the desire to prove herself worthy.

“If all wounds were healed by the sea, we’d have no use for you,” he remarked, “better that such ailments are tended to by our dear lady doctor, or we would be without your company.”

#harricts #{☸ Character | Harriet}#{☸ Thread | Writings}

santners

Black Sails - scenery 4/?

#{☸ Inspo | Imagery}

hotniatheron

// Mahesh Jadu as John Silver //

Thousands of men in Nassau are living in fear of my return because I decreed it. Hundreds of dead redcoats in a forest not far from here, because I made it so.

I’m the reason grown men lie awake at night.

I am a new beginning for Nassau.

#{☸ Image | Faceclaim}

clotworthyskeffington

you’re talented, mei lin. but not that talented.

(please don’t remove the caption.)

#{☸ Image | Faceclaim}

thousandmusings

ℐ 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓂 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

#{☸ About | Musings}

Jahandar “Hands” Qasim

psd template by the amazing @tigerh0logram

#{☸ About | Musings}#{☸ Image | Faceclaim}#{☸ Inspo | Imagery}

sqviid‌:

Thane could thank the gods for the calming of the sea for the moment, giving him a chance to come up from the bowels of the ship to enjoy the fresh air and sunlight, even if it’s just for a few moments. It’s dull and dark down in the galley, all that’s there in his domain is the tables, chairs, and kitchen where he does his magic. But every now and then, Thane will come up, mostly for work, or that’s the excuse he uses, mostly out of fear that the captain will find him out of place and he’ll be thrown overboard once again.

This time, he had his bucket full of empty crab shells and fishbones, all to be tossed overboard and sunken back down to the depths like treasure back to the earth. There’s only so much old food smell Thane can stomach before it starts to become a problem. The deck was quiet, but Thane worried he would somehow still be in the way, so he carefully picks his way over to an edge of the ship he deems remote enough so he can dump the carcasses and watch them sink into the depths below. His mind wanders for a moment, wondering what else lurks beneath the waves. Tales of warring ships start to recollect in his mind, the ones his mother used to tell as she would send him to bed; tales of monsters with too many limbs, of mermaids who sang to drag unknowing sailors to their deaths…

At the sound of the cool voice, Thane jumps out of his thoughts before a slight flush of embarrassment coats his cheeks at being caught off guard. “Aye!” he agrees much too enthusiastically than intended for a question like that, to which Thane scratches at his head, apologizing. “Sorry, just happened to be thinking of old sea stories my mother used to tell me when I was a kid. The sea’s beautiful, as blue as she would always describe it.” he smiles fondly at that before he laughs to himself. “The fumes from the kitchen must have finally gotten to my head.”

Squid. That’s what they all called the boy. Yet Jahandar had never seen a squid so adept at cooking, or as skilled at daydreaming. It was no bad thing, mind you, to have an imagination. Long stints at sea could drive mindless men mad. Yet there was a time, and a place, for exercising such talents, and cooks often didn’t have such luxuries. As the young man jumped and gave such an enthusiastic answer, Jahandar could not help but laugh kindly and reach out a hand to clap him on the shoulder.

“Do not worry, I will not tell our esteemed leader of your snatching of clean air. It appears, if the fumes are making you nostalgic, it was needed.” He patted Squid on the shoulder once more, then let his hand drop. “What stories did your mother tell of the sea?”

#sqviid #{☸ Thread | Writings}#{☸ Character | Thane}

seefircs·:

there was no better place to be than on the merchant’s mercy, in elias’ opinion. nothing was better than leaving the sleeping quarters and coming onto the main deck to be greeted by sunshine and the blue sea. and elias was grateful for it⏤being on this ship, even when the waves made the boat too rocky or it was storming out and kept elias inside the cabins most of the day. each day was different and exciting, him either getting into trouble with his brother or arguing with one of the swabbies. and of course, working with the artillery, or training anybody that needed help with using their gun. that particular day had been a bit slow, having completed most of his duties by morning.

elias took sight of jahander standing alone, and eli took it as his new duty to accompany the man. he strided over to jahander, a smile painted on his lips as he reached the spot next to him.·“ahoy, hands! of course i am, nothing is better than the sea air. suppose it is one of the better things about being on this ship. and how have you been?”

“One of the better things? I would make sure that doesn’t reach Captain Merritt’s ears, or you may have some explaining to do on what the unsatisfactory things about his ship are.” It was a tease, and Jahandar made sure to set his smile to show it, watching Eli with one brow carefully raised.

“I have been well. You know as well as I that there is only so much one can do on a ship.” The first days out at sea were quite predictable. They would set out, and the captain would slowly become less and less irritable. Then they would hear what they were about, and Jahandar would set the course, perhaps even taking the helm for some time. Then they would doggedly search for a take. Easy. “And you? I suppose you have been having fun with gunpowder, as usual?”

#seefircs #{☸ Character | Elias}#{☸ Thread | Writings}

esthercraine·:

“I should hope so. The Mercy hasn’t capsized yet, now, has she?” Esther took a seat on the stool near the barrel and ran her callused fingers across the sheet of paper before her. Numerous cuts, splinters, and scars marred her once-dainty hands that hardly resembled those of a young lady. But then again, she was no longer a lady, but a pirate. And pirates did not fear storms.

“My apologies, Hands. I have nothing but confidence in your tutoring abilities. And if a monkey could do it, well, surely you consider me smarter than an animal?” She dipped the quill in the pot of ink and wrote “Esther Craine” in the top corner of the paper. “I can write my name without a problem, and most of the alphabet. But you’re right, the spelling is difficult.” Surely Jahandar would see her as stupid and uneducated. Esther recognized the letters he had written, each uppercase paired with its lowercase, but they were like scraps of wood tossed in a pile with no way of assembling them into finished projects. “Should I try to write the alphabet as you’ve done?”

“That she has not,” Jahandar nodded with another reassuring smile. He knew storms - he knew how horrific they could be when caught in one. There was nothing quite as humbling - in his experience - as the sea when it was furious. Nothing reminded one of quite how small and insignificant they were until they were caught on waves high enough to block out the sky, and thrown from one side of the hold to another. The typhoon, that horrific thing which started him on his journey of piracy, still lingered with him at times, and Jahandar could remember with startling clarity the crunch of his arm as it broke under the weight of cargo, the godawful creaking of wood, and the water, rising, rising, over his ankles. Lost for a moment in horrid memories, it took a firm clearing of his own throat to bring him back.

The writing Esther produced was legible, and certainly practiced enough, and showed more hope than he perhaps had. He gave an encouraging and satisfied nod. “Not quite yet. I had a little exercise in mind to see how many of the letters you can recognise. Please, would you first tell me the alphabet, as in say each letter, in any order that you find easiest.” Patiently, he folded his hands in his lap.

#esthercraine #{☸ Character | Esther}#{☸ Thread | Writings}

hellyeahmoodboards

pirate moodboard x

❝ not all treasure is silver and gold ❞

-m

#{☸ Inspo | Imagery}

ethereal-rpg

#{☸ Inspo | Imagery}

esthercraine·:

It had been a bit of an embarrassment to approach the navigator over such an issue, but ever since the day Esther had witnessed the man’s exquisite penmanship across nautical maps, she longed to do the same. She could read enough to understand written instructions for a carpentry commission, but when it came to putting the letters together into words and sentences, her mind faltered. All she could write was E.C. in elegant lettering, which she carved on finished projects. Her mother had preferred for Esther to learn the trade of a midwife, and there was little time for education between caring for Charles Town’s babes.

Her steps creaked along the floor of the crew’s quarters as she passed the white hammocks lining the hull. She paused a moment to inspect a repaired leak, running a thin finger along the seal of tar and rope where the wood had begun to split. Perfect. Just an additional layer of tar on the exterior of the ship, and Esther could report her finished job to the captain. And then there was the stubborn crack in the mast that could be fatal to the Mercy if left alone, or the gap in the boards just above the upper gun deck, and then the figurehead which had been damaged in a storm…God, she’d never fixed a figurehead in her life.

“Jahandar, you’ve turned this place into a proper classroom,” Esther said, turning the corner and setting aside her anxious thoughts. She reached forward to catch a quill that nearly fell off the top of a barrel. “The wind and the waves are toying with us today. I hope we can outrun the storm on the horizon.” After a year at sea, her stomach still turned at the thought of a storm tearing the ship in two. “Thank you again for the lesson, though I wonder if you’re as good of a tutor as you claim. Think you can teach the alphabet to a lowly carpenter?” Her gentle face broke out into a grin. “How shall we begin?”

”Should a storm come upon us, I shall take us out, and the Captain will keep us safe,”Jahandar replied. He saw no reason for them to stay within it – unless their enigmatic Captain said otherwise. But he knew that Esther had been overloaded with repairs as of late, and that the Mercy would struggle if put through it. Still, he doubted it would come to that, and gave his young tutee a smile he hoped was comforting.

”Your doubt wounds me, Brandy,” he said in reply, and gave her a small wink before taking his place upon a pilfered stool and gesturing for her to do the same. “I once saw a monkey trained to write and draw, I am sure you will do quite fine. Besides, your alphabet is quite simple, it is how your words are spelled that is difficult.” With a clap, he rubbed his hands together. “Come then, we’ll start with some basic learning.”

#esthercraine #{☸ Thread | Writings}#{☸ Character | Esther}

captainsilasmerritt·:

It had been two days since leaving port to restock rations for the ship before the captain had barked orders to get them out of the harbor and back to open water. The last two days, the Captain had been holed up in the Great Cabin. Probably for the best considering the sea captain’s mood always soured when they were near or on land. But there was nothing to be seen for miles in either direction and it was as if the very waves were a siren’s song that called to the Captain from below. There were plenty of stories about the feared and respected Captain Silas Merritt, even a tale that it wasn’t blood that ran through his veins but that of the salt water they sailed upon. He liked those stories it gave his presence a sort of mystical avant-garde.

Stepping out of his cabin and finding his sea legs quite easily, he often felt like a drunk man on dry land. The sea was his home and this ship his first and only true love. he stepped out onto the main deck and felt the warmth of the Carribean sun beaming down and he made sure to take an infectious breath of the sea air. He found peace with that. The breath was let out and blue eyes roamed across his decks and watched his men (and women) go about their duties to keep his ship afloat. All of them knew what was expected of them and after taking on water and supplies at the station, it meant only one thing, the captain was planning a long time spent on the sea and the silent promise of takings to share.

The captain crossed the deck towards the front of the ship where he had spotted an all to familiar figure there. The sea captain kept a certain distance from members of his crew, they respected and feared him for the stories, but if there was any you might say he trusted or even would seek out, well, it was the navigator with whom he approached. He stepped up beside the other and looked out to the horizon before them. The winds were steady and the sea quiet.

“I live for this very moment. The sea in perfect harmony. There is nothing else like it.” Sometimes his words held a soft accent to them, sometimes it was barely noticeable - many had guessed at the origin of that sea captain: English, American, French, maybe from the mystical city of Atlantis herself. “Much better out here then that ghastly hovel we just left behind.” He looked back out onto the sea. “If you’re not otherwise occupied by your duties,” A suggestion in his tone said even if he were that it was now only second to what he was about to say, “I have the course of the ship and where we need to be in two days time.”

The tone in the Captain’s voice was enough to let Jahandar know that his black mood had passed, swept away by the open-sea wind, dragged off by the waves. Any tenseness that he may have held in his gut for conversing with the familiar face melted away, and he smiled into the horizon, blue on blue, and the flecks of precious gold that shimmered on the waves.

”Your hatred for land has not yet diminished, I see,” Jahandar said, with perhaps a slight inkling of mirth in his voice but certainly not enough irk the other. It would do none of them any favours to have a fuming leader once again. The Captain’s displeasure for anything solid had long been known to Jahandar. It had been eight years since he had boarded The Merchant’s Mercy as their new navigator and found a younger Silas Merritt scowling his way over the sand, a scowl which slowly subsided as they sailed further and further from the Bahamas until all that was with them was the deep blue, the wind, and the dolphins playing in the bow wave. The corner of his mouth ticked up at the memory, tucked away from the Captain lest he be asked what had caused it.

Work was always better than leisure, in Jahandar’s eyes, but even if he had not been without use at the moment he knew that when Captain Merritt called, he was to answer. They were all to answer. ”Well then,” he said, turning to Merritt fully, his hands behind his back, ”Let us see it, that we may be underway.”

#{☸ Thread | Writings}#captainsilasmerritt #{☸ Character | Silas}

acecroft

BLACK SAILS

V. So you can probably guess it isn’t as much fun to tell stories about how your captain makes a home with a nice puritan woman who shares his love of books.

#{☸ Inspo | Imagery}

C L O S E D: @esthercraine

When Esther had gently probed Jahandar about his books, he had understood immediately. It hadn’t taken him long once he was away from home to understand that most places didn’t offer the sort of education he had received. He would thank Emperor Aurangzeb for the rest of his life for the teaching he had as a child. He would curse the English Monarchs for the opposite. Too many of the men and women he was surrounded by here in the Caribbean were illiterate, unlearned. They led easily like sheep, not used to thinking for themselves, unable to express their thoughts in a clear and understandable way. Logic was not inherent – Jahandar knew that well – and without teaching, the mind floundered. Esther though… Esther could think. And it was for that that Jahandar had offered his services.

He’d never taught before. He’d never found a reason to. Yet he could remember his own teachings clearly – the cramps he got in his stubby child’s hands after copying for hours and hours. He could remember the smell of ink, the calming yet firm voice of his tutor. He could remember his classmates laughing at the worst of the class, whose handwriting was so messy it became unreadable. For Brandy’s sake, he was happy that there were no other students who might cruelly mock her attempts. But Brandy was adult, was good with her hands, and she seemed to have a sharp enough mind. She would do well, he thought. He hoped.

The room was set. Jahandar had spent a rather silly amount of time copying out the alphabet in capital and lower, and arranging the quills and pens and ink. The steady sway of the ship made them roll over the paper, this way and that, as it sat upon the end of a barrel. Hunkered away in a hidden section of the crew’s quarters, Jahandar pressed the front of his shirt down and looked upon the scene of his makeshift classroom with a small inkling of pride, and then at the sound of a footstep, turned.

“Ah, Brandy. Come then, let’s begin.”

#{☸ Thread | Writings}#{☸ Character | Esther}#sailsstart

The sea was quiet… inasmuch as it could be. She was always moving, always roiling, as if some creature deep below was thrashing, thrashing, and all its foam came up through the blue and to the surface. It beat against the hull like a drum, breaking upon it in sheets of spray. At the forecastle Jahandar stood, nose turned to the wind, salt filling his nostrils and peppering his lips. Another wave hit upon them, just large enough for a fleck of silver water to hit at his cheek, and he silently dapped it away with his sleeve. This time of the day the decks were always busy. Riggers cast cool shadows where they climbed about like monkeys. Parts of the crew took up in song and then quietened again. A game was played on the sunken gun deck. Yet for all its business, Jahandar – or Hands, as he was better known to the crew – stood alone.

It was not something he much minded. After all, when alone Jahandar had time to think, to plan, to reminisce. He could pass time quite easily when left to his own thoughts, though he could also grow bitter when left to memories. Home – so far away - clung to him like barnacles to the keel. Thus, when a presence arrived at his side he did not wish it away, but welcomed it closer.

“Are you enjoying the sea air?” he asked the other, casting them a long glance from the corner of his eye. “I find it soothing, if salty.”

#sailsstart #{☸ Thread | Writings}

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