Chief Archivist Beck's Notes on Aparnovosi Tales

In light of the great calamity which befell Aparnovos some years ago and the diverse woes of that people which have followed, as well as the noteworthy and surprising actions of their kingdoms-in-exile, many stories and rumours about them have come to my attention. These tales grow different in every telling, be it a layman or erudite scholar by whom they are uttered or set down on parchment. As part of my duties as Chief Archivist, I consider it prudent to sort through this drabble, and in my attempts to verify and categorize the many outlandish tales I have been frustrated. Having heard of a community of Aparnovosi established here in Acton, wherein they busy themselves with trade and furnishing the Emperor's ships, I elected to make myself known there and draw forth information which may be of some remark.
The local Aparnovosi are most known in this fair City as experts in shipwrightry, as indeed the ships they offer for Imperial service are oft-remarked upon as they ride at anchor in the harbour. Until such time as I can curry the favour of one of their captains, I have not been aboard these vessels, but have instead spoken to the various builders and ship-carpenters in the yards within their community, which by their speech is called a "dalghenna." I recounted to several of these the men the tales that had reached my desk, such as one amateur magician who sought to uncover the enchantments with which, so he told, he was certain the Aparnovosi used on their timber to ensure the longevity of their ships. This, they were very amused to say, was nonsense, and they assured that they would proffer some of the truth, but not all of it.
It is true, they said, that the Aparnovosi prize certain trees especially when planning a new vessel, and that much is true of shipwrights in other countries of all times since men took to sea; tall pines for masts, oak for stout frames and planking, and fragrant cedar and spruce for lightness. Indeed for many vessels they construct in the present day, these common materials are almost always the rule. But for their noblest ships in the days of the city's glory, these men told me of how the bravest timbers would be brought by sea from far-off lands. This wood is usually dark in colour, and exceeding hard, and possessing of a grain that is very tight and condensed. One of the shipwrights actually brought forth a piece thereof, which he kept for himself, and I can testify that it was much in weight for its size, and of hardness enough to only be shaped by the sharpest of tools, which themselves must be kept in constant repair. But they were all speaking over one another in affirming this type of wood's virtues in the making of strong ships, particularly in its resistance to rot and becoming crank. They say the trees which furnish such timber grow in climes which must be very unhealthful for northern constitutions, on account of sweltering heat and much moisture. One of this company said that he had known a sailor who was involved in this trade, who said that the Aparnovosi who ventured and worked in these places had valued another type of tree there not useful for shipping, but from which could be shaved bark that worked a wonderous cure for the various and cruel maladies that are bred from the ill airs and vapours of the jungles.
Some among this excitable band also told tales more strange about how this wood was come upon, and told me of an old sailor that lived off of the goodwill of the community who could explain them to me in full. They sent with me a boy, who led me through the streets to the said mariner who lay peacefully on a bench before a boarding-house. His countenance was lined and cracked very much like dried wood, and his flesh was brown and leathery. He first told me in his raspy voice what must have been an obscure joke, where he compared his stiff and scarred old fingers to some word in Aparnovosi that I do not know, but what I assume to be a tool for working with rope. Upon being asked about his tale, he gave a a wide, gay smile and told a fantastic tale about how his ship once, when in the endless southern seas, chanced upon a wooded isle. But the sailors were astounded to discover that the island was not land at all, but rather was like a great raft formed from the immense twisted roots of the trees which grew upon it. The birds and beasts that they found there were beyond compare, and they found welcome succour in fresh meat and fruit. As promised by his countrymen, he said much of the wood's remarkable qualities as earlier described, but said also that this was more prized even than the other cherished timbers in that it grew by nature in salt water and was thus well-suited to use on the sea. I heard how he described the various forms in which the trees were induced to grow by the gales of the ocean wind, and stated that these were divinely shaped to provide the pieces of a ship which are best made from curved shapes, such as frames, knees, and so many others which go by incomprehensible names in Aparnovosi.
This being a grand tale from an old sailor, I asked if he had heard tell of other ships finding such islands and bringing home the goods they found. He emphatically answered that it was so, and gesturing in the direction of the harbour, even affirmed that he, in his prime, had served on one of the galleons riding there now, and swore that her hull was almost entirely made from such timber as was got from these mysterious islands: he emphasized the longevity by tugging on his wispy white beard. He recounted the tales of valourous and canny navigators who knew where to expect the floating islands by studying where the ocean currents were likely to take them, and that the same men could know their ship's location thereupon by laying for long periods on the deck of their ships, feeling the motion caused by the waves if the stars were not visible.