Sorry for goofing off so long. I promise the next chapter within a week: Dawn.

Stone

Chapter 37 – At Westport

Jason and Stone found Kalosun leaving the Kithren bar. Kalo had not been at the battle at the camp, and knew little about it, so he had been able to pick up more information.

He learned that the sea was more of an ocean, and took nearly a year to cross. Most of the Kithren’s had originated there, but recently most had been moving to Westport and Lakeport further up the shore because of problems on the other side of the ocean. The ocean bit made sense: Stone had realized as soon as he arrived in town that there was a salty tang in the air. Kalo said most of the Kithrens worked on the whale ships that sailed from the ports. As a trader, Stone knew that whale oil was the main export from the town. He intended to fill the three wagons with oil to take back to Greenstone and the towns along the way. The oil was cheap here, but quite expensive in the other towns. It provided much of the towns’ economy the way coal did for Greenstone.

At the house Stone was happy to see that the good house was well furnished with a cook, and smells coming from the kitchen that made Stone, Jason, and especially Kalosun’s mouths water. The school was still in the process of being equipped, but when the new cook rang a triangular bell, all the men working there and in the barns stopped and followed their noses to the kitchen. Cass had set up a buffet arrangement on the kitchen table, and the family went first, loading food onto their plates and taking it to the dining room table. The soldiers and wagoneers took their food to the front and back porches of either the house or the school, and ate there.

Halfway through the meal Rayla went into the kitchen, and saw the cook sitting alone, eating her meal.

“Come, Cass. You are part of the family. There is a place for you at the table,” she said.

“Madam, I cannot. I am only the cook,” Cass protested.

“Nonsense,” Rayla said grabbing the woman’s plate and carrying it into the dining room, setting it at the empty place next to Sissy. The big woman followed, carrying her fork with a bite still attached to it. She sat and ate quietly.

Stone finished first. “That was a fabulous meal, Cass,” he said to the cook’s embarrassment. “I hope you do as well with white food. Kithren cooking is fine for a change, but only once or twice a week.”

“Thank you master,” Cass said uncertainly. “No one ever complimented my cooking over there. And there all meals were white food. It felt good to make the food of my people.”

The desserts were Kallopaws, the sticky treat that they were introduced to at the hatchery in Greenford. Jason had just grabbed a second of the sweet and said: “I hope you can make these more than twice a week, Cass. They are wonderful.”

The big cook smiled and said: “Those were not part of the menu at the other place. I will make them for you as often as your parents allow. But be aware that I can also make other treats for you: cookies, cakes, sweet buns, and pies. You are a growing boy and need good food. I will see to it you get it.”

After dinner Rayla went to the kitchen with Sissy and started to clean up, to Cass’s consternation. “Madam and Miss, that is my job.”

“No Cass. Your job is to cook. The rest of us will help with the cleanup. Jason will clear the table, and I expect Kalosun will help. It looks like there is a bit of food left.”

“Sorry madam,” Cass said. “I was unsure how much to make. Your man is very big and I thought … well, the old master got angry when there was not enough food for him. Sometimes he took my portion.”

The three women were washing the dishes when noises were heard on the back stoop. Cass went to investigate, and all Rayla heard was Cass saying: “All I can do is ask.”

“There are three boys out there, about five years old. They look hungry and say they haven’t eaten for a few days,” she told Rayla. “They wondered …”

“Bring them in,” Rayla said. “They can clean up the leftovers.” Three small Kithren boys entered the kitchen and were ushered to the kitchen table, where Cass split the leftovers into three helpings, and placed one in front of each boy, who then Hoovered up the food. Minutes later each plate had been wiped clean with a slice of bread, and the boys looked around, as if more might appear.

“I want you boys to come back tomorrow morning,” Rayla said. “The house next door is a school, and you three should attend.

“Thank you for the food, ma’am,” the biggest boy said. “But we really aren’t fans of schools.”

“Well, if you come before eight, there will be a breakfast. School starts at nine and runs to noon, and you will get a sandwich for lunch after,” Rayla said.

“Mebbe we will come then,” the boy replied. “We aren’t fans of school, but we are fans of food.”

The next morning at eight, Rayla looked out and saw seven boys and two girls on the stoop of the school, waiting patiently. Apparently the three boys had spread the word about the new school. “Looks like eleven in total, Cass,” she called into the kitchen, where the big black lady was making porridge. The food was carted over to the school in a big pot. Cheap bowls had been purchased the day before, and Cass scooped the oatmeal into them, and Rayla handed a spoon and a bowl to each child, who then sat on the floor and ate up. The three boys from the night before each had seconds, and looked eager for third helpings: these were denied since Rayla wanted to start class.

“All right children. I’m sorry there are no desks yet, but you look comfortable on the floor. Today we are going to start reading. I am going to draw the first five letters on the chalkboard, and I want you to draw the same shape on the floor. Then we will teach each of you the first letter of your name. Finally, I will teach you the numbers one to 10, and we will practice counting. That should take us until first recess, when we will sing a song. There will be a second recess an hour later, and then at noon Cass will be back with sandwiches on the fresh bread she is making right now.”

While school was on, Jason and Emily acted as helpers, since they were both far beyond this point in their schooling. Stone and Kalosun walked down to the docks at the far end of the main street. They found a whaling ship had just arrived, and Stone was able to buy three wagonloads of whale oil at a better price than Stone normally paid to brokers when his wagon trains came to town. Kalo ran back and got the wagoneers to bring their rigs down to the dock. Most had slept in, and were eating in the kitchen when he roused them into action. They loaded the wagons fully, and brought the valuable oil back to the yards behind the house, storing the wagons safely in the big barn. Stone wanted to spend at least several weeks in town before heading back north.

It was nearly noon when Stone took the ship owner to the jewelers to be paid for his load. After the man left, Stone and Kalosun went to the local bars to have lunch. Kalosun chose a Kithren bar, and Stone was not surprised when it went quiet when he walked in. Stone was used to this reaction, due to his size, but in this case he also noticed that he was the only white man in the bar. The fact that he was accompanied by a Kithren seemed to satisfy most of the patrons, and they turned back to their lunches. One seemed to object though: “How come a whitey like you comes in here?”

Stone replied: “My friend Kalosun says this is where the best food is. Can’t say I like eating the dreck from the white bar down the street, though I’ll head down there later for a drink. They can’t mess that up, can they?”

This resulted in general laughter through the bar, with several people sitting close by mentioning that he had called Kalo a friend. The bar owner came over immediately, proud of the compliments on his food, and took their orders. He could be heard telling the cook what Stone had said, and insisting that their meals be made “special”.

Stone enjoyed the results that came out of the kitchen several minutes later. He was starting to acquire a taste for Kalosun cuisine. After the meal was consumed and the dishes carted away, Stone stood and stooped to go out the door. Kalo stayed, ordering a beer, and was offered a place at several of the tables.

Stone went to the bar he had been in the night before, and this time was able to get some information instead of just talking about the battle. He found the captain of the whaler, and his offer to buy a round was taken up. He learned a lot about whaling at that table: the other three were captains as well, waiting to go out again with their crews.

Stone learned that whaling was a hazardous profession that garnered the town most of its income. Most whale ships went out for three or four months at a time: any longer and the men started coming down with sea disease, which was described to Stone and sounded a lot like scurvy.

The ships had mixed race crews: slightly more black than white. The Kithrens were judged the better sailors by the masters: although apparently sailors sitting at other tables loudly disagreed. Apparently when the boats were in whaling waters two or three weeks out, small boats with ten Kithrens would be set out, and eight men would row, trying to get close to a whale, so that the harpoon man could fling his weapons at the big mammals. The only position on the small boats ever manned by a white was the tiller man.

“Them darkies can row,” one captain bragged. “They’ll go twice as long as the white boys. And no white boy can throw a harpoon half as far as a good darky. And they don’t get sea disease as quickly. Many’s a boat comes in that only has darkies manning it, with all the whites in the sick bay.”

While the small boats were out the white sailors would stay on the big ship, keeping close to the three or four small boats and watch for a hit. A ship needed to land four or five whales to fill the hold with whale oil, which took several days per whale with the full crew working together to render down the oil. Again blacks in the smaller boats would strip the blubber, which would be hauled on deck and boiled down in big pots by the others.

Apparently whaling was a dangerous profession, with 20 ships sailing from Westport and a dozen from Lakeport across the way. About one ship a year was lost, often with all hands. Sometimes the smaller boats survived, coming ashore anywhere along the coast with the men slowly making their way to town.

The loss of boats meant there was a boat building industry in town, which was currently idle due to a stretch with no ships lost. Stone found out the name of the shipbuilder, and where he could be found.

“You thinking of going into whaling, sir?” one of the captains asked.

“No. I hope to get a ship that can cross the entire sea,” Stone said.

“Whatever for?” one captain said. “Good luck finding a crew. That’s a suicide trip.”

“Well, it could be done if the rumors of Hurricane Island are true,” another captain said. “But you’ll not get me on that voyage.”

“What is Hurricane Island?” Stone asked.

“It’s real,” one captain said. “I got stranded there for a month, waiting for my crew to recover from the sea disease. It’s an island about halfway across the sea. Pretty big: It takes a week to walk around it. Good food: there is trees that have big round fruits that really knock down the sea disease. They have both a milk and a meat in them. There’s goats on the island too, but they are pesky to catch. We only took two during our week there, but it was a welcome meat to go with the fruits.”

“Hurricane,” Stone mentioned. “Are there many hurricanes out there?”

All the captains nodded. “The season is about three months with about one a week,” one man said. “Fierce storms that can pick up a ship and flip it clean over. Most ships stay in port on vacation from whaling when the hurricane season is on. I think most of us will make one more trip before them: a short one. In four months the storms will be blowing hard.”

Stone stood, ordering another round for the captains before leaving. He wanted to find this shipbuilder, and see if he could have a ship built.