Laliberte

For the most part, the Courier was visited by normal travellers, the island postman, and the occasional islander who wanted to say hello. But just like everything else, you always get the usual stories.


The knocks on the hull

"I need to go somewhere where they can't find me. Somewhere they won't think to look."

"You'd be safe here, I think. On the boat. We're looking for more crew. If we hear someone in town is looking for you, we'll drop you off at the dock or you can take a kayak and lay low on the shore for a couple days. Probably some attics we could get you into as well.

It wasn't supposed to be her life. But plans change, she supposed.

---

+++Rigel woke up the next morning to calm waters and soft sunlight streaming through his porthole. He wiggled out of the heavy comforters and shuffled down the corridor to the galley for a cup of coffee, only to come to a halt at the entrance to the salon. There, illuminated in a shaft of sunlight like she was the recipient of a godly blessing, stood Avril. With her hands upon her hips, she surveyed the salon in a manner similar to that of an explorer who'd just crested a hill and found a new country. She didn't offer an explanation (nor any words of greeting or acknowledgement) and he didn't want to ask. So he offered a half-hearted wave and started puttering around the galley for coffee beans.

+++"You know what this place needs?" Rigel had been staring at the stream of coffee he was pouring in a sleep-induced trance-like state, and her voice almost startled him into spilling the kettle. Rigel tilted his head. It was generally impossible to tell what Avril was thinking at any given moment, but he tried anyways.
+++"Air freshener?"
+++"A piano." She said, with confidence. Rigel almost choked on his coffee.
+++"I'm sorry, a what?"
+++"A piano, Rigel, a piano." Avril was impossible to read. He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. It seemed a bit far-fetched, but then again... He's not the one who took a week's break to go hunting for fairy lights.
+++"This... Is... A... Boat." He said it slowly, as not to confuse her.
+++"Yes, and it needs music."
+++"Could you perhaps be interested in a fiddle? Or a flute?" He said feebly. He was already losing ground in this battle. He could now tell by his friend's bold glance around the room that she was perfectly serious. Gods help them all, she intended to install a piano in the salon of a boat, and at this early hour of the morning he was the only one who could stop her.


+++He lost. It had been a great row, one to go down in the ship's logbooks for certain. It had ranged from reasoning to compromises and even broached the topic of accordions (at which point Rigel's feelings were badly wounded), and ended with Rigel slumped at the table in the salon, nearly in tears from frustration. At Rigel's particularly desperate, offended cry of "wHAT DO YOU MEAN 'the piano could be used as a life raft', it even woke up Rila and the other passengers.

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+++05.29/35 They came and installed the piano today. It was a group effort. The two teenagers and the aunt who boarded yesterday came back to the boat early and helped. I tried to hide in my cabin for most of it, but after Rila nearly dropped one end of the stupid thing into an open storage hatch they dragged me out to tune it. This is a sad day. They also said something about piano lessons. Gods help us all.