Team Boat

by BlueBook

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Romance
Length: 1585

It's just another day in 1835, as a lady landscape painter takes a ferry boat across Lake Champlain. Oh, did I mention the boat’s Captain is a talking horse?

It's just another day in 1835, as a lady landscape painter takes a ferry boat across Lake Champlain. Oh, did I mention the boat’s captain is a talking horse?

An entry into Admiral Biscuit's not-a-contest.
Special thanks to my editors:
Admiral Biscuit
OleGreyMane

Published 2019-12-27 03:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-12-27 03:00:01 UTC

October 30th, 1835

Miss Sarah Cole
Burlington, Vermont

October 30th, 1835
Miss Ann Cole
New York City, New York

Dearest Sister,

My trip goes well and I am safe and sound. Please send my regards to the family. Brother is well, as he is engrossed in his work; his latest paintings are simply breathtaking. No doubt, when next you call on us, you will find him preparing them for exhibition. Until then, you shall have to take me at my word, dear sister, when I say they greatly exceed my own humble works.

As for myself, I continue my work & try & paint the shadows to our brother’s light. I have done much work en plein air upon this trip. I have tried to capture some of the shining golds, rich reds, and deep oranges of the foliage at this time of year around Lake Champlain. My best work thus far has been one I have just done on the crossing from Port Kent. And what a pleasant crossing it was! Forgive me for writing at length about it, but I promise the details are worthy of being committed to paper.

Lake Champlain is long and narrow, and because the prevailing winds run down its length, sailing upon it is a tricky and uncertain affair. At least that is what I gleaned from brother Tom’s history books. Therefore I was relieved to discover there are several ferry lines in Port Kent, all with reputations of running like clockwork. As I intended to do some painting on the passage, I booked a sailing for the midafternoon, when the light is at its best. The boat I chose was the Gemini. Such an unusual boat I had never seen before! As she lay nose into the bank, I could see she was some sixty feet in length, with ramps at either end so wagons and their teams could be driven on and off. It also had a pair of wheels, with large boxes in the center, one on either side. Overall she was an unpossessing craft, yet I was engaged by her. I have seen boats with wheels before, and all of them had some kind of steam engine to give them propulsion. But the Gemini had nothing. It was just a plain raft bobbing silently on the shoreline, its locomotion supplied by some arcane means.

Presently I reached the end of the path leading to her landing stage and, with trepidation, stepped aboard. The Gemini had low railings, and her deck was bare except for a few coils of rope. Painted mostly white, she did not have a name on her side. Instead, two small pennants bearing that legend flew from a short staff at her bow. Another stood at her stern, and flew our national colors. The boat appeared deserted, as I saw no ferryman aboard her.

Then a rustic voice boomed a salutation from one of the great boxes of the boat. “Afternoon, Miss!”

Sister, I am embarrassed to say I nearly jumped into the lake at the sound! I had to grab hold of the railings to steady myself.

“Miss?” A pony, or the head of one anyways, peaked out from the box. “Ya all right? Ain’t ya never seen a talking horse before?”

I blushed like an over ripe tomato, but I gathered myself up, and sharply replied, “I am fine, you merely startled me. We have many ponies in New York, though usually they wear hats.”

“I see.” The pony laid his ears back, and I perceived my remark had wounded him. He turned his head and muttered, “Well, I never did have no use for them city fashions.”

This was a most awkward state of affairs, so I decided upon changing the topic of discussion. “I assume you are the captain of this boat, Mister…?”

“Yes ma’am.” He blew a strand of hair from his face. “Oh, uh, name’s Castor.”

He indicated the opposite box with a turn of his head. “Brother Pollux and I take turns piloting.”

Castor looked up, squinting at the sun, then back down again. He shook his head. “Say, Miss, can I trouble you for the time?”

I dug through my pocket and produced a watch. “Two o’clock, presently.”

“Well, it’s time we get a sailing then.” He turned towards the opposite paddle box once more. “Pollux! Throw ‘er in reverse. It’s time to back her out!”

“Right, Brother!” came the response from inside the box.

“Off we go.” Castor began to nod his head, as if he were walking.

Curiosity overcame my propriety, and I elected to ask him the question which he no doubt had to suffer from every tourist. “So, how does the boat… without steam?”

“Ya mean, how does she move? Yer looking at it, lady.”

It was my turn to be put out. “Actually, it’s Miss Cole.”

“Beg yer pardon, Miss Cole, but we get that one a lot.” The grey coated pony now looked flushed, or much as that is possible for a pony.

Despite my faux pax, he seemed more than forthcoming in describing how the vessel operated.

“Pollux and I walk a big wheel. Runs under the deck, turns gears and shafts and whatnot. That moves the boat’s paddle wheels.”

I took a seat upon one of the rails and leaned towards him, so I might hear him over the splash of the paddles.

“This here whipstaff is how we steer. Brother’s facing the other way. That's so we can keep lookout all around, in case of fog.” Castor extended a hoof and nudged a large lever which slowly swung the bow of the boat out into Lake Champlain. “He’s got a gear shift back there too, so’s we can back out of the slip. It’s in ‘bout the same spot I’ve got my whipstaff.”

“Fascinating!” I replied and turned my head out towards the lake. It was then I produced my sketchbook from my bag and began to draw, for the lake was a shimmering mirror off which colors of fall were reflected. I scribbled away furiously, capturing it only dimly in a pencil sketch. The lake grew longer behind us, the shore fading into the background.

“What’s that there, Miss Cole?”

“Huh? Oh! Just sketching,” I stammered, for as usual, I had completely forgotten myself while drawing.

“So ‘yer an artist, then?”

“Oh no, that’s my brother. I just like to paint.”

“A lady painter. And modest too!” My companion laughed heartily. “What a highfalutin boat I’m running nowadays. Say now, ya do portraits?”

“Not at the moment. I mostly paint landscapes.”

“Oh, well. I got a horse face anyways.” Castor laughed at his own joke, and I joined him.

Pollux, from the rear of the boat, bellowed, “Breeze commin’ up, Brother. Better pick up your pace!”

Castor strained in the harness as the boats wheels sped up. The water remained flat and calm. He rolled his eyes at me and mouthed the word “Brothers.”

I nodded, knowing well the nuisance they can oft times be!

I watched as the pony cast his eyes along the length of the shoreline. “Sure is pretty up here this time of year. S’pose that’s why you come.”

“Indeed.” Responding to his overtures, I decided to lay my sketchbook aside. Dear Sister, sometimes by celestial design we come across those characters who, though we know them but briefly, we end up committing to our memories for all time. Castor, I had decided, needed to be memorized. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, Brother and I was born and raised in Burlington,” he explained, nodding towards the east. “Been out on the lake since we were small. Father taught us everything we know.”

It was an obvious answer, and I felt silly for having asked the question. “Then, I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have any ideas what I might paint, would you?”

“Well, ma’am, I ain’t no artist.” Castor snorted in amusement. He looked up across the lake, eyes lingering on a distant spot. He was silent for a brief moment, then continued. “The way I reckon, prettiest sight on this here lake is the view you’d get from Orchard Hill. When I was small, I’d watch the ferries run there.”

“Oh! That sounds lovely.” I smiled and thanked him profusely as the shore grew larger in my view.

Castor blushed and turned his head towards me. “Thank you kindly, Miss. Though it seems to me that vista might be the second most beautiful view on the lake, on account of your being here.”

I felt myself blush and must have been as red as an apple, for Castor began to laugh. Pollux joined in, and then I along with him as the Gemini eased into the landing.

And that was how I came to sit beneath an old oak tree for the better part of yesterday, painting the team boats as they plied their trade across Lake Champlain, the water reflecting the refulgent colors of autumn. I will not soon forget my crossing with Mr.’s Castor and Pollux aboard the Gemini. By my account you can surely understand why, dearest sister!

I plan on starting back to New York in a few days, once I am satisfied my work here is quite complete and I have made all the arrangements for travel. If this fall remains as temperate as it has thus far been, I should be home by the fifteenth.

Your loving sister,
Sarah