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Location: the waves, the ocean

Hoist the sails, raise yer bloody goblets, ahoy & onward me laddies!

Friday, February 17, 2006

Cast O'erboard, The Crisis of the Muleshark, Perfidy of the Crew, Triumph Alas!

Laddies! Aye, indeed 't has been rife with violent struggle, me timely delay. Methinkest that many among ye perhaps thought yer good cap'n a goner, a permanent fixture in the watery firmament of Davey Jones locker, aye, but here I be, of a piece, of sorts, of great tumult & toil revivified & restored, lads, such that methinks the world anew a place of wonder! Aye, for the tale is long & its circuitous details be many, & for me purposes methinks 'twould be best to serialize me latest adventures, so vast & so varied they be!
Aye, last I left ye 'twas a period of quietude boardships. The winds were few but favourable, aye, & thus the waves carried us along with little resignation or resistance, the broad blue ether beyond our prize, the northern waters where old foes & rivals did dip their schooners in the icy sludge. Aye, such a people as called the ocean once 'grass-edge,' but could not keep the word from meaning also 'keel's edge,' so riddled with the complications of inbreeding & incompetence were their forebearers in those tundra-spotted Nordic lands. But nay, I'll not, no, feast 'pon the easy target of Viking dimwitedness, for in the scope of things, such comments I'll reserve for a lazy day, lads, & then only after me writes a ditty or two.
So 'twas that me finds meself on gentle waters & with a restless crew when by dint of providence or damnation we came 'pon an English brigate with a freight of goods bound for the North American coast, aye. Afore their eyes could spot me flag me ordered the British ensign raised on high in place of me Rogers, & ordered me crew to make haste in interpreting the costume of the English seamen, aye, in order to make for a bounty captured with the greatest of ease. 'Twould seem, sadly, that some among me crew had grown mutinous, & though to all visible aspects of me good eye they obeyed me orders, one among them sent the messenger raven o'er ships to the brigate. Unbeknownst to yer cap'n, lads, me jig was up, & as I approached the brigate I saw not the welcoming arms of countrymen, but the gaping welcome of the canonroar & musketshot. Not a moment later, when I turned me person to rally me crew, I was greeted with what appeared the mirror apparition of what lay across that slim chasm of sea, for me own crew had me trained in their sights, their scaboards empty, their rifles poised at the shoulder, a collective menace writ large across their foreboding & scarred & ubiquitously hideous countenences. Here I be, then, says I, a captive in me own ship, an English brigate with a noose belowdecks for me on one hand, me own crew with a dagger to plunge deep in me chest on the other. What was I to do laddies? Patience, & I will the story tell...

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dagger! Eat of my Nordic shite, thick with the bones of the sturgeon and the feathers of the Dodo-bird.

10:08 AM  
Anonymous Hjort said...

That was I, Hjort, in case ye knew it not.

10:09 AM  
Anonymous blorjt svensenssen said...

Dagger, you are a putrid wretch! I flail my cock starboard at ye and spit sideways!

6:34 PM  

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