February 20th, 1891 — Sanditon Pier

In all his distraction over Zelda, Alfred had nearly forgotten that today was the day his brother had selected for sailing lessons. He'd woken up too-early, had something to eat, and gone back to bed in the hopes of staving off a hangover, then had woken two hours later to an insistent tap-tap from Evander's owl, holding a missive with a frankly silly question about preparations for the day. Although they weren't scheduled to meet for another hour, Alfred got up and dressed — easier to deal with his brother in person than responding to the owl, he decided, even though the owl fluttered around his room impatiently waiting for a return letter the whole time he was dressing.

He kept catching himself smiling at nothing. This was going to be a good day, he thought — a good week, a good year. He was going to see significantly more of Zelda, if their parting conversation had been any indication, and the prospect had him in a better mood than he'd been in since Christmas. And he was going sailing today! Nothing could have been more delightful, really — except, perhaps, the company. Hopefully Evander wouldn't manage to ruin it.

He flooed to Irvingly and hurried his brother along as best he could — they were only meant to be gone a few hours but the way Evander was acting one might have thought he didn't expect to be back at home for another year, at least. Alfred almost asked jokingly if he'd prepared his last will and testament, but thought there was a chance Evander might take him seriously and cancel the whole trip, so he held his tongue. Eventually, they managed to get to the Sanditon, and from there it was a short walk to the pier.

"Ready?" he asked brightly. "We've got our pick of the boats." Not that Evander would have the first idea how to choose.

Evander Darrow Elias Grimstone

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Evander had concerns about this. Of course, Evander had carefully compartmentalised concerns about nearly everything, but this outing today warranted Concern with a capital C. He wasn’t sure whether this was a healthy mistrust of the ocean and anything upon which people felt obliged to go floating on it, or a general mistrust of his brother’s competence... which logically Evander knew Alfred possessed, but the disaster that had befallen his ship and his crew nearly a decade ago was a heavy cloud to shake nonetheless.

That said, this was the Sanditon, and not quite sailing-across-the-Atlantic sailing yet, so how terrible could it be? Alfred seemed to be in an especially sunny mood, as well (and for a moment Evander hoped, probably naively, that this meant his brother might refrain from making jibes at his expense today). At any rate - in spite of his Concerns - Evander was committed to trying today. He would learn the basics of sailing, he would attempt to ‘enjoy’ it in spite of his firm preconceptions that he wouldn’t, Caroline’s family might eventually like him better for it, Caroline would certainly appreciate him trying, and maybe bonding time would be good for he and Alfred, anyway.

So, at Alfred’s ready? Evander found himself nodding, his frown suppressed. He eyed the array of boats docked before them in bemusement, swallowing the question does it matter? How did one tell which boat was least likely to be faulty when one knew nothing about them? As a matter of fact, how did one tell one boat apart from another? He scarcely knew whether Alfred was being serious about having their pick of them or already making fun of him. “Aren’t they... all the same?”

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"No, they're not," Alfred said, shaking his head but keeping his smile in place. He could not really expect Evander, of all people, to know the first thing about sailing, and he probably didn't much care about the difference. That was the whole reason they'd come out here today; because Evander knew nothing whatsoever and wanted to learn. On another day Alfred might have mumbled something vaguely derogatory and chosen for them so that they could get on with it, but he was supposed to be teaching — and he was in a good mood.

"Most of these are cutters or sloops, but the sails they're fitted with are different," he explained. "You can't tell so much when they're rolled, but they're shaped differently and they catch the wind in a different way. See the red tag on that one?" he continued, pointing to the main sail on the nearest boat. "This'll be a racing boat. The sail's built for speed. This yellow one is more responsive. If you know what you're doing, you can get her in and out of some tight spots, but if you don't you're likely to tip her if the wind gets too heavy. This blue tag here'll be the standard sail. That's probably what you want," he supplied. Without waiting for a confirmation from his brother, he climbed aboard, using the lines to effortlessly transfer from pier to ship. From his higher vantage point at the bow he could see the whole length of the pier, and he couldn't help but continue in a tone of great excitement: "Do you see that one all the way at the end, that looks like two boats put together? That's a catamaran. They're new. Not many people know how to handle them properly. They're so fast you're actually not allowed to sail them in competitions against single-hulled ships," he concluded, with a wide smile. New was a relative term; they'd been invented over twenty years ago, but compared to the whole history of sailing this was very new indeed.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Well, they were all boats, as far as appearances went, so it was not factually incorrect, whatever Alfred said. And then Alfred went and said rather a lot all at once; no sooner than Evander had focused on one ship then he was talking about another one with a different tag. And - Christ, he’d already gone and clambered onto one faster than anyone could disapparate. Evander attempted to follow in his path, obviously lacking the grace and ease of it but grateful that his brother was already bounding onwards in the conversation, getting excited about something else. (Yet another boat, of course.)

“Do you know how to handle them?” He asked, squinting over at it to judge the fast new vessel - and already quite glad they were not on that one, for just about every reason Alfred had listed - and simultaneously digging out a pocket notebook and pencil. Perhaps not one of the items his brother had mentioned he would need for the outing, but Evander certainly felt better for having brought it, as he dutifully began scribbling down red tag for racing boat and the rest, sure that even if half the words out of Alfred’s mouth were nonsense like cutters and sloops, he couldn’t possibly speak faster than Evander could take notes. This would be fine.

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   Cassius Lestrange, J. Alfred Darrow

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"Of course I do," Alfred answered, immediately and rather boastfully. Evander likely wouldn't care a whit whether or not Alfred could handle a catamaran, but he was not going to have anyone (even Evander) doubting his sailing skills for a moment. "But we might need special permission to take it out, since they've only got the one. And anyway, you'd lose your lunch," he explained, as though this were a foregone conclusion. He didn't even know if Evander had eaten yet, but he didn't anticipate his brother to be the sort to handle high speeds very gracefully. And catamarans went fast, if you knew what you were doing.

Almost reluctantly, he pulled his attention off the end of the pier and back to the boat he'd selected for them that afternoon. Evander was already aboard, which was fantastic progress, really. Now they just had to get it underway.

"Right — so this is your mainsail, and you take her in and out with this halyard, here," he said, moving towards the mast and pointing things out as he spoke. "And she'll run along the boom — watch out for this when we get going, if the wind changes it'll swing and it could knock you overboard if it catches you unaware — and then up front here is the jib, which you'll use for — are you taking notes?" he asked suddenly, noting the pencil and pocketbook in his brother's hands, which distracted him so entirely that he lost his train of thought.

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   Evander Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Evander might have argued about the losing his lunch comment, only this was the one place where Alfred’s self-confidence was probably not misplaced and to which Evander had no knowledge to argue it with, nor a clever rejoinder. (As if he ever had one of those.)

He did rather hope that his stomach would stand this one, when it started moving. Even moored here he did not feel especially steady on it, and already his brother was pointing out potential deathtraps; the boom seemed like a design flaw to him, if Alfred wasn’t exaggerating. Still, he squinted at it, scribbled it down and moved on to the next bit, until his brother asked a very foolish question.

“Of course,” Evander said, with a furrowed brow and bemused shake of his head. “I assume these are important details,” he said, as if it even warranted an explanation. Surely Alfred would not have been saying any of this if he did not mean Evander to learn it. And certainly, he could try and file it away in his head, but then there was the danger that he would miss something important - and even if he never planned to use this information in sailing beyond today, he had at least committed to knowing it, enough to follow a conversation if Alfred and a Delaney ever got to talking. Once he had committed to doing something, after all, he was inclined to be nothing if not thorough. Mainsail, halyard... “Now, jib, is that j-i-b or with a g?”

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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For a moment, Alfred merely stared at him, not quite believing that even Evander could be this dense. He was doing it on purpose, wasn't he? He had to be doing it on purpose. Well, if they were going to be purposefully antagonistic, Alfred was perfectly capable of playing that game.

"G-h-i-b-b-h-e-a-u-x," he answered, wondering how much of that nonsense Evander would scribble down before he realized Alfred was making it up. "Lots of silent letters. It's French." The idea that the names for sails might have come from French wasn't terribly far fetched; they had a Navy nearly as old as Britain's (at least on the Muggle side). The idea that any sailor might care one way or another how jib was spelled, of course, was.

Climbing down from where he'd been standing at the base of the mast, Alfred dropped into one of the seats and tilted his head slightly to look skeptically at his brother. "You know there isn't going to be a test, right?" Well, there would be, when they eventually started sailing this thing, but it wasn't going to be the sort of test his little notebook was going to help with. And, if he was being honest, he didn't think any amount of preparation was really going to help Evander's eventual performance much.

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   Evander Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

“Alfred,” Evander groaned through gritted teeth, frowning the moment he realised his brother was mocking him, which was having already written down the whole word and thus ruined his attempt at neat notes and a labelled diagram. “I am trying here.” He was here and taking this seriously and trying to learn and Alfred was what, more preoccupied with making a fool of him than being gracious about this? Was it too much to ask that he just helped him?

And there would be a test on this, the test being the rest of his life. Merlin, and if they hadn’t even left the dock and they were having problems, apparently Evander was going to fail it. “Watch out if the boom swings,” he parroted from his notes, trying to prove that they were going to serve him well. (And even if they weren’t, seeing the details of a very unfamiliar, horrifying thing in the familiar strokes of his own handwriting was one of the few comforts Evander had ever found in the world.)

He put his hands out in exasperation. “Can you perhaps not make fun of me for - I don’t know, an hour?” They were not children any more, however they usually got along.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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Even before Evander had gotten through his question about not making fun of him, Alfred had started laughing. It was the mechanical way that he read off watch out if the boom swings that did it. "If the boom swings and you check your notes to see what to do about it, you and your notebook will both be underwater," he pointed out with a chuckle. Alfred could picture it perfectly, which was why he was laughing. Evander all wide-eyed and surprised as he got pushed overboard, then the satisfying plunk noise that would come when he hit the water. It was just hilarious. Alfred doubtless would have found it less funny if they'd been anywhere that falling overboard would have been dangerous, but nothing could possibly happen to Evander at the Sanditon, with their weather charms and the water temperature magically raised to that of bath water.

"But alright, alright," Alfred said, putting his hands up as though in surrender. "Next sixty minutes, I'll be on my best behavior. Start your watch," he joked. Hopefully Evander wouldn't actually do it, because if he did Alfred was certainly not being able to hold back from laughing at him again.

"Let's get her underway," he suggested brightly. "I'll walk you through it and you can learn as you go."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Right, Alfred was laughing. Of course he was laughing. He couldn’t believe he had so much as set foot on a boat and not expected it. Shrugging hopelessly as his brother continued to laugh, Evander stood, feet planted where he was, and pretended to inspect the rest of the vessel as if he knew anything beyond what Alfred had thus far explained.

Who knew. Maybe he was making it all up, anyway, and this was a lost cause.

But finally, finally, Alfred pulled himself together long enough to grant him a little hope for this endeavour. Nor did Evander pull out his pocketwatch to check the time accordingly, by which he expected Alfred would be utterly taken aback (although this was less because Evander didn’t want to make sure he got a full hour of no-fun Alfred, and more because he was worried one sudden tilt of the deck would see the pocketwatch flying overboard).

“Fine. Thank you,” Evander added, with what dignity he had left. Thank you for stopping laughing, primarily - but also, perhaps underneath, some actual gratitude that Alfred was actually humouring him with this now. It would have been remarkably easy for him to decline wasting his time with this.

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   Zelda Darrow

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The easiest way to get them underway would have been for Alfred to just untie everything and given the boat a nice shove from the dock, and then started explaining things once they were out in the water, but that wouldn't have been an entirely authentic experience. If Evander had just asked to go out on a pleasure cruise, Alfred would have gotten them underway himself and maybe just offered to include Evander once she was properly moving, with full sails and a gentle wake behind her. Evander could have steered a little, maybe taken one line in a bit if he seemed particularly keen. But he was supposed to be learning, which meant doing the whole thing.

"Alright, so start with untying her on one side," Alfred explained from his position on the boat, gesturing at the cleats on the dock on the starboard side of the little sail boat. "Then you come around here and undo the fore one. Toss all the lines in as you go. Then you'll undo this last one," he continued, with another gesture. "And, er — then you'll push her off." He was having some trouble with this bit, not because it was difficult to explain but because it was almost impossible to picture Evander actually doing it. "So a good shove, and you come along the dock here and jump in before she gets too far out."

(Did Evander even know how to jump?)

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   Evander Darrow

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Evander did not know how to jump. No, that was a lie. He understood the concept of jumping - two feet, in the air at the same time - but he was less certain whether he had ever had occasion, in his life, to find jumping a necessity. Never mind jumping from a dock into a moving boat -

He had been readily untying the first lines Alfred had pointed out, supposing it a fairly straightforward task and keen to show that he was capable of more than note-taking, whatever his preferences were; but when he came closer to the last cleat he was regretting having begun and not just deferred all this to Alfred. This could be a theoretical lesson, surely? Caroline’s family would never - make him actually go sailing or anything, or at least not do the sailing, would they? (Then again, she had an abundance of brothers and they were Americans to boot, so the extent of their good manners and human decency was naturally in question. Perhaps it was better to be practised.)

“Alright,” Evander said, trying to sound sturdily convinced of his own abilities here and not horribly high-pitched in nervousness. “Is there not just a particular spell, perhaps, for that -” he considered, when it came to the shove - but oh no, if he cast a spell the boat might move faster and he might lose his wand too and what if he fell in before they’d gone anywhere - and he was on the dock and he did it, at first a tentative nudge and then a hefty push that saw it angle out a little and - “Alfred, I -” he said, admittedly a little high-pitched now, before he... half-hopped, half-threw himself onto the deck into a heap of limbs and utter panic, hoping he had not somehow broken a leg in the process.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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Had he been able to picture Evander leaping from the dock and into the moving sailboat, Alfred was sure he could not have come up with anything half so spectacular. He remained where he was on the boat and watched with eyebrows raised high. He had the urge to laugh (obviously) but he had just promised not to, and he didn't want to break his word so soon. Instead he raised his hand to his mouth and bit down on one knuckle to stifle the sound in his mouth, though he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Stars above us," he remarked, shaking his head. He felt he ought to say something else — perhaps ask if Evander was alright — but he couldn't come up with any words except those. After a slight pause he cleared his throat and tried to refocus on the task at hand, to provide Evander a chance to peel himself up off the deck of the sailboat without being so closely observed (more dignified, Alfred decided, than offering a hand to help him up). He thought about issuing another instruction to let the main sail out a bit, and to keep a hand on the till to keep the boat's helm pointed out away from the dock while they got away from the other ships, but he wasn't sure whether or not Evander was up for it.

"... Do you want me to take over for a bit?" he asked hesitantly, glancing back in his brother's direction.

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

That had - not gone as smoothly as he’d hoped, but he was at least on the stupid sailboat, Evander considered, groping around for the smallest of pros here. See, here was another: Alfred wasn’t laughing, or had learned to do so silently (Evander was determinedly not checking; he couldn’t afford to lose any of these bright sides right now, or he would fling himself back onto the dock and be done with it.) And - well, there wasn’t much space for wallowing in his humiliation here, anyway.

Stars above us, was all his brother remarked. That was another small mercy, too.

At the question - offer - suggestion, however, Evander flinched. “Nope,” he got out, a little too fast and a little too forcefully, as he stubbornly hauled himself upright again. (His first instinct was to dust himself off or tidy his hair, but - so as not to look precious about this, presuming there was still plenty of occasion to be splashed or sweaty or dirty hands off the lines, he just curled his fingers into his palms to resist it.) “No, I can do it. You just - tell me what else to do.” He was not sure he could do it, but he bloody well would, somehow, practice made perfect and whatnot, whether or not it took a miracle. Evander had committed to this; and he might look stupid and definitely felt stupid, but all the same, he’d be damned if he gave up now.

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Alfred didn't think that he'd ever heard Evander say the word nope before, which was sort of novel. If he was going to be shocked by anything, though, it wasn't the word choice but rather that he wanted to continue at all. Given how utterly graceless his jump had been, Alfred was a little impressed — not that he would admit to it, of course, but there was something distinctly admirable in Evander's determination to keep going, even though he clearly knew how ridiculous he looked doing it.

"Alright, then," he said. He moved to the seat beside the tiller and dropped into it, then crossed his arms over his chest, mostly to prevent himself from reaching out and just doing things himself if Evander was doing them too slowly or clumsily, which would almost certainly happen. Evander wanted to learn, though, and Alfred was going to make a good faith effort to teach him, which meant not interfering unless he asked for it. He issued orders from that position, pausing to explain terminology when Evander looked utterly baffled but otherwise just pressing on and hoping he figured it out as he went — which, unbelievably, seemed to be working (maybe the idea that Alfred could teach sailing lessons for a living wasn't so entirely far-fetched as it sounded when he'd first thought it up).

"You've got it, now," Alfred said encouragingly as the boat began to move out from the pier in a more purposeful way, the wind beginning to catch the sail. "Now take that line there and let the sail out until you like the speed. As much or as little as you like."

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Frankly, this whole situation was ridiculous and maybe his brother would never look at him the same or never let him live it down later, but Evander still had some time in the amnesty hour of mockery, so he was choosing not to think about it for the time being.

There was enough to be preoccupied with, anyway, even on a boat of this size, and Evander couldn’t even imagine how much there must be to do on a ship like the one Alfred captained, but one thing at a time. The speed. Until he liked the speed? Evander was a true tortoise of a human being, anti-speed in all regards, but he had let out the sail too much already for that to hold here, so here they were going at a decent clip – what was this, knots? — and there was a strong breeze on his face and...

Well, this was – still terrible and he still hated it and it was by no means an enviable career in any regard, and he still thought it was a ludicrous activity for pleasure but – “Is this sailing, then?” Evander murmured, almost forgetting not to sound too gleeful about it. “Alfred, am I sailing?”

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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