A while. Starting from when I was...hm, eighteen? Nineteen? Young enough that I thought I was invincible, in the way of all youth then. [A shrug, as he sits down somewhere, sets the bag down on a table.] Privateering was more lucrative than any other job I could find, and I'd just married, too—I couldn't afford to keep her in the style she was once accustomed to, not unless I could find work that could pay more handsomely than farming could.
She told me she didn't mind being more frugal. She told me that me being around was enough. [A sad smile.] I didn't listen, obviously. Too busy being blinded by visions of gold spilling out of my pockets.
...What they don't tell you about privateering is, it is so bloody easy to start to think that it's the only thing you'll ever be good at. And while you're at war, that's all well and good, but—what do you think happened to us when the war ended, and we were left adrift?
[They'll create a rather horrid feedback loop if they aren't careful, but fortunately Jonathan can be distracted from insisting self-deprecation by the polite obligation to listen. He nods, slowly as he does- the kettle slowly rolling to a boil in the background, Danny in the meantime coming over to sniff at this new fellow's legs as Edward sits.
He finds himself unsurprise that Privateering paid well, given what it entailed. Death was more than possible after all.
...It hits him rather like a brick, that such justification would also mean something Else.]
...They'd not offered a thing to replace the task afterward...did they? [he finds himself asking, still standing, if only because he needs to get to that kettle once it clicks. Jonathan's face is slack with a particular kind of grief.
The sort that speaks of having known something...but not actually understanding it, until that moment.
Nope. Not a thing. When the peace came, we all ended up drifting in the wind with no real idea what to do next, and no real skill at anything else.
[Edward had been a sheep farmer before he'd been a privateer, and what he'd learned at sea wasn't the sort of thing you brought home with you. He leans over and gives Danny a gentle little pet on top of the head, making sure to scratch behind the ears.]
So we turned pirate, instead. [He sighs.] I tell you this because...well, like I said. I've seen men overcome with nostalgia before. I've been one. And so much of the time it's because you've just—seen too much, done too much, and in the aftermath you can't see a way through.
...Such things that they enjoy painting away from history texts... [Jonathan can't help but murmur, the kettle clicking in that time.]
...It feels odd. ...To experience a thing one expects of soldiers, and the like, [he confesses.] Truthfully now that I'm speaking to someone who actually knows what nostalgia entails, I almost feel a fool for claiming it.
...but I suppose the very matter of it is that quite a lot more than soldiers have, and shall again, seen horror despite anyone's efforts.
[His words bring with them a slight whine from Danny, though the dog looks to Edward the entire time. Jonathan meanwhile focuses on pouring tea.]
...What have you done then, you and your fellows, when such bouts occur? [he can't help but ask.] ...As you may have guessed, I've typically just waited the matter out.
There's a lot of things the history books like to leave out, mate.
[He shakes his head.]
It's not an odd thing to feel. I'd be surprised if everyone who'd died on that ship had come out feeling just fine and peachy, after everything. [He lets out a breath.] You're not a fool to claim it. You're just describing what you feel.
[There's a beat. Then, dryly:]
I got drunk about it. We all did. Not a lot of drinkable water sometimes but plenty of rum.
[A small attempt at humor, as he sighs-] Quite. It's caused an impressive sense of trouble with my 'dream career', I must say...
[...Ah, the archaeology-
Bringing the tea over though, the rather wry smile does not fade.] Would that it were only the ship, where I had such experiences...
[But, he supposes that only strengthens Ed's point. He cannot help but note-] ...There used to be a time when the only healthy thing one could drink was alcohol.
[Three cheers for beer?] ...Though I should hope you've not been relying upon that method now, at least.
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no subject
[He can't turn away. He...feels partly responsible, really.]
A while. Starting from when I was...hm, eighteen? Nineteen? Young enough that I thought I was invincible, in the way of all youth then. [A shrug, as he sits down somewhere, sets the bag down on a table.] Privateering was more lucrative than any other job I could find, and I'd just married, too—I couldn't afford to keep her in the style she was once accustomed to, not unless I could find work that could pay more handsomely than farming could.
She told me she didn't mind being more frugal. She told me that me being around was enough. [A sad smile.] I didn't listen, obviously. Too busy being blinded by visions of gold spilling out of my pockets.
...What they don't tell you about privateering is, it is so bloody easy to start to think that it's the only thing you'll ever be good at. And while you're at war, that's all well and good, but—what do you think happened to us when the war ended, and we were left adrift?
no subject
He finds himself unsurprise that Privateering paid well, given what it entailed. Death was more than possible after all.
...It hits him rather like a brick, that such justification would also mean something Else.]
...They'd not offered a thing to replace the task afterward...did they? [he finds himself asking, still standing, if only because he needs to get to that kettle once it clicks. Jonathan's face is slack with a particular kind of grief.
The sort that speaks of having known something...but not actually understanding it, until that moment.
He did, after all, study quite a lot of history.]
no subject
[Edward had been a sheep farmer before he'd been a privateer, and what he'd learned at sea wasn't the sort of thing you brought home with you. He leans over and gives Danny a gentle little pet on top of the head, making sure to scratch behind the ears.]
So we turned pirate, instead. [He sighs.] I tell you this because...well, like I said. I've seen men overcome with nostalgia before. I've been one. And so much of the time it's because you've just—seen too much, done too much, and in the aftermath you can't see a way through.
no subject
...It feels odd. ...To experience a thing one expects of soldiers, and the like, [he confesses.] Truthfully now that I'm speaking to someone who actually knows what nostalgia entails, I almost feel a fool for claiming it.
...but I suppose the very matter of it is that quite a lot more than soldiers have, and shall again, seen horror despite anyone's efforts.
[His words bring with them a slight whine from Danny, though the dog looks to Edward the entire time. Jonathan meanwhile focuses on pouring tea.]
...What have you done then, you and your fellows, when such bouts occur? [he can't help but ask.] ...As you may have guessed, I've typically just waited the matter out.
no subject
[He shakes his head.]
It's not an odd thing to feel. I'd be surprised if everyone who'd died on that ship had come out feeling just fine and peachy, after everything. [He lets out a breath.] You're not a fool to claim it. You're just describing what you feel.
[There's a beat. Then, dryly:]
I got drunk about it. We all did. Not a lot of drinkable water sometimes but plenty of rum.
[jojo voice] beer was a food group once
[...Ah, the archaeology-
Bringing the tea over though, the rather wry smile does not fade.] Would that it were only the ship, where I had such experiences...
[But, he supposes that only strengthens Ed's point. He cannot help but note-] ...There used to be a time when the only healthy thing one could drink was alcohol.
[Three cheers for beer?] ...Though I should hope you've not been relying upon that method now, at least.