Corned Beef and Cabbage-Galley Duty #AtoZChallenge

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The 26 eclectic-genre short stories for my #AtoZChallenge are excerpts from travelogue notes by
fictional character Gahlen, who first appears in SHARDS OF MEMORY – Oral History in a Heartbeat.

Each A-to-Z daily post is a stand-alone tale - partly true, partly fiction.

By Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums - https://www.flickr.com/photos/twm_news/16104487498/,

No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53196609

Corned Beef and Cabbage - Galley Duty

Genre: Novice Sea Experience

(374 words)

We spotted the cargo ship’s bright blue lettering: AMOR*DE*FAMILIA. Chesko waved from the deck, acknowledging his offer of a free ride from France to Ireland in exchange for galley duty. He introduced us to his father, Captain Dominique.

“Welcome aboard,” the captain said. “My son vouches for you and that's good enough for me.”

Chesko led us below to our cabin, small with submarine-style bunks along one wall. Once we stored our duffels, he clapped and said, “Okay, to work.”

He assigned me to scrubbing pots left soaking in greasy water. Pointing to a mound of red potatoes, he told my sisters, “You peel the spuds, a step my Spanish mother insists is un requisito absoluto. There's four deck hands, two boiler mechanics, seven cargo stackers, Dad, you three plus me. Average two per.”

“Thirty-six spuds, by my count,” I said. Chesko’s scowl had me scrubbing harder.

From the refrigerator, he removed a thick corned beef brisket marinating in a pot of water and spices. He let that simmer on the stove while we went about our duties. Then he transferred the meat to a roasting pan. “We have fair seas,” he said, sliding the pan into the oven. “Go enjoy the fresh air. You might spot a pod of bottlenose dolphins, if not a fin whale.”

After only a distant sighting of one whale, we returned to the galley. Chesko was tucking peeled spuds and sliced carrots around the meat. For the final fifteen minutes of baking, he added layers of green cabbage.

Five hours out, he rang the dinner bell. We were invited to dine at the captain’s table. After Captain Dominique said grace, he asked, “What is your purpose in traveling?”

“To visit our ancestral homelands.”

“Keeping alive memories of your past is important,” he said. “Nationality does not dictate who you become, but heritage does guide your decisions.”

We cleaned dishes and mopped the galley floor one last time. Chesko again sent us topside, this time to announce land sighting.

“Do we yell, ‘land ho’ or something?” I joked.

“As your final order, that is exactly what you do.”

A pod of a dozen dolphins escorted the ship and at the first sign of cliffs, we fulfilled our duty, boisterously.

*****

Baltic Amber Tradition #AtoZChallenge

Aging Baltic Amber

By М. Порсина (M. Porsina) - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39314124

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The 26 eclectic-genre short stories for my #AtoZChallenge are excerpts from travelogue notes by

fictional character Gahlen, who first appears in SHARDS OF MEMORY – Oral History in a Heartbeat.

Each A-to-Z daily post is a stand-alone tale - partly true, partly fiction.

Baltic Amber Tradition

Genre: Historical Fiction-Genealogy

(371 words)

“Handing down the amber bracelet from mother to eldest daughter is tradition.” Tess, a vivacious waitress whose family owned the restaurant, continued, “With only male siblings, my inheritance ceremony was quite elaborate.”

“An admirable custom,” I said, eying the unpolished stones.

“Amber wards off witches. I am not bewitched, so it must work.”

Suppressing a laugh, I asked, “How old are they?”

“A Baltic Sea fisherman netted the stones in the 1700s. My ancestor, Jakup, purchased them to ease his wife’s labor so she would not miscarry again.”

Tess agreed her mother could speak with me further about the bracelet, then assisted other patrons.

Charlotte introduced herself and took a seat. “Your inquisitiveness has me curious.”

Motivated by my own interests, I asked, “Do you know who sold Jakup the amber?”

“No longer curiosity, but intrigue.” Charlotte raised a hand.

A waiter appeared. “Yes, mother?”

“Have your father bring a bottle of wine and five, no, six glasses.”

Her husband, Henri, arrived and filled five wine glasses. The sixth glass remained empty.

“The fisherman first denied knowledge of the stones,” Charlotte said. “His family’s safety was at risk after Prussia declared ownership of all Baltic amber.”

Anxiously I asked, “Do you recall his name?”

“Ah, that explains the sixth glass,” Henri said. “No surname, just a given name. Gottfried. He had a wife named Marta, a son Carl. Sound familiar?”

I smiled. “All are family.”

Henri raised a hand. When Tess appeared, Charlotte pointed to the sixth glass. Tess burst into tears and rushed from the restaurant, returning moments later carrying a small box. Henri handed her the sixth glass, filled with wine.

“Seven more of Gottfried’s stones were crafted into jewelry.” Tess laid each item on the table. “But after the baby’s birth, war came. Gottfried and Marta died. The son Carl emigrated.”

“Tess constantly shared her story,” Henri said, “hoping to meet someone who knew of Gottfried. We promised to toast her perseverance on that day.”

At Charlotte’s lead, we all raised our glasses.

Then Tess offered the box to me. “These were meant for Gottfried. As his descendant, they belong to you.” When I humbly accepted, Tess said, “May you enjoy a lifetime of good health, without witches.”

*****