Troy
I be Tavish McPantless.
I was born nothin’ but the wee lad of a poor potato farmer in a small village where I never felt that I truly fit. From the time I first started feelin fur growin 'neath me kilt, I was always in trouble. Whether it was sneaking off with Miss MacCoulouch's pies, Mister MacCully's sheep or even the Constable’s daughter a time or two. It was pretty clear I wasn't cut out for the small life. I left me family on my 15th birthday and told me Paw he'd be proud o’ me one day.
I decided to try me fortunes in the port city of Stornoway. My lack of coins and experience led me to try my luck in the gambling halls, where I quickly lost what little scratch I had. I tried fightin’ for me supper, but was quickly known for being a bit over-violent with a tendency to cheat if I needed 'ta knock the other fella down. I begged for a while, which didn't work out so well either. I found meself cornered by some strong-arms looking for payment one dark night. Just as things started looking like I might not walk away in one piece I heard a high, lilting voice call to the vagabonds, "Any of you fella's want to try this sweet thing on for size?" she said as she slid a leg free of her skirts to waggle it suggestively. I never was sure exactly what happened after that, because I passed out cold when I hit the ground.
When I came to, I was sure I'd been at the rum again, although where I had gotten it I had no clue as the last I could remember I’d been to poor to pay attention. The room was swaying around me it seemed. Judging by the way the lantern was swinging , the room really WAS swaying. I quickly sat up and banged me head on the bunk above. A ship! How on earth did I end up on a ship?
Light suddenly impaled me next thoughts as the door opened and a beautiful young lass sauntered in. "So, your lazy bones finally be awake do they?" she said as she sat a basket down on the table. “Who do ya be, boy?” “I’m Tavish, M’Lady.” I replied. “Tavish what, exactly?” Asked the lady. “I’d rather not say, M’Lady… my Paw wouldn’t be too happy to hear what I’ve managed so far.” “Fair enough…. The girls I’m bringing to work for me found it mighty amusing that Scotsmen don’t wear pants. I’ll call you Tavish McPantless until you’ve a mind to tell me otherwise. I be Madam Cricket of Eilean er Coayl Grayse. I'm the one saved your scurvy hide last night. I ask you now boy, are you gonna repay the favor or do I dump you over the side?" I cracked a smile and said "Just dump me then, I be no woman's slave."
You can't imagine how bad saltwater stings when you be hangin off the side of a ship draggin your bum on the wake at full sail.
The Madam taught me about respect that day, using my tender salt stung hide in conjunction with the anchor to slow her approach to the sheltered Harbor leading to The Isle Of Lost Grace. I’ve spent me days since making up for the brashness of me youth as the Masseur of Madam’s Crickets House.
