A Moment of Navality
I'm so glad I have Min's Proclaimers CD to help me through the NPR pledge drive. I'm already on edge from the continuing PBS pledge drive, and hearing pleas for money instead of the news is just the frosting on the cookie. Should one frost one's cookies.
Of course this is not here. Nor yet, there.
The Ionian Mission
Jack is mostly pleased with this crew. His only qualms are in regards to his midshipmen, most of whom are wee and in need of guidance, and the ship's clergyman Mr. Martin, Jack not liking having religious folks on board. In the plus column, there's Mowett and his many original verses, and Pullings, Bonden, and a decent enough bosun running a tight ship without Jack having to do too much. He's had worse.
The mission is BORING, though. They have to stay on the blockade, in theory keeping the French in their ports. But really, they're just standing out in the ocean and trying not to die. No chasing frigates, no taking prizes, no trips to shore. BOOOOOORING. That is, the mission is boring. Our Boys do find ways to amuse themselves.
First, we have Wee Calamy (Actual name Peter Calamy, but meh), a midshipman Jack was forced to take by Wee's mother, he having been shipmates with Wee's now-deceased father. Wee is the wee-est of the midshipmen, (his hat is far too large and the brim reaches to his nose) and so, bears the brunt of their boredom and amusement. He wants to be bigger, so the midshipmen tell him to carry a calf around the deck for an hour every morning. Which he does religiously, even though the calf kicks him every step, and all the hands laugh into their shirtsleeves. You go, Wee! Carry that calf! Grow a few hat sizes!
Mr. Martin is a man after Stephen's own heart. They talk for HOURS about birds and insects and blah blah blah droooooooooone. He is also just as bad a sailor.
Martin: Blah state of education in the poor blah drone.
Stephen: Democracy blah tyranny drone religion blah.
Pullings: Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind going below while we clean the deck for the admiral's visit?
Martin: We'd like to stay above and look for birds.
Pullings: I highly advise you to go below.
Martin: But! Birds!
Pullings: *sigh* Fine. You can go aft. They've finished that bit. But! DON'T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.
Stephen: What could we possibly do by touching things?
Pullings: Doctor. Just don't.
Stephen: Right.
*Stephen and Martin go aft and have a sit. Stephen puts his feet up on the railing*
Stephen: Now where were we?
Martin: Droooooooooone.
Stephen: Yes, but DROOOOOOOONE in the Andies-
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Excuse me, Doctor?
Stephen: Yes?
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Mr. Pullings asks that you take your feet down from the fresh paint, if you please sir.
Stephen: Oh. *thinks* Please ask Mr. Pullings how I might do that without marring the paintwork and tracking more paint across his clean deck. Thank you. Now where was I?
Martin: Droooooone. *puts feet on railing as well*
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'll just go get my head bitten off by Mr. Pullings now. *does*
But what really cemented Mr. Martin as Stephen's buddy was the Quail Encounter. It was Sunday. Almost time for inspection, just before church services, and it is quail migration season. A whole flock of thousands of exhausted quails decide that the ship looks like a good place to rest. They *have* been flying for a good thousand miles or so. Consequently, they start falling from the sky onto the ship. A couple of them land on Jack's epaulets and go along for a ride as he is inspecting, stern as he can look with little birds plunking down left, right, and center and trying hard not to step on any of them. Martin and Stephen try to save as many as they can from the hungry sailors, but there's only two of them and hundreds of sailors who are looking on the birds as a rare Sunday treat. Then it's time for church.
Birds: yay! Places to rest! Oo! Hats to perch on!
Sailors: Yoink! *stuff birds into their shirts*
Birds: Why is it so dark?
Martin: I take for my verse today Numbers, Chapter something, Verse something. "And little birdies fell from the skies, and the tribe ateth them thinking them a blessing. But NO! The birds were GOD'S BIRDS, and those that had eaten them died horrible stinky deaths by indigestion and lightning strike."
Sailors: Ew. *release birds*
Birds: It's day again! Yay! *sleep*
Friends for life after that.
Now, as I mentioned before, life on blockade is very boring. Our Boys are very creative. They've formed a men's choir and are practicing Handel's Messiah. What they lack in talent and precision they make up in LOUD. But Jack seems to think it's coming along splendidly, especially the bass section, in which his is the dominant voice. He also decided to be a literary captain and sponsor a production of Hamlet, just like in his youth. Sadly, Jack will not be playing Ophelia this time, or any other role. He's captain and not allowed. Wee Calamy is playing Polonius, but can't remember his lines. All the sailors are excited. They've heard this Hamlet thing has a cool ending, lots of blood and fighting and stuff.
I can't wait for the production.
Of course this is not here. Nor yet, there.
The Ionian Mission
Jack is mostly pleased with this crew. His only qualms are in regards to his midshipmen, most of whom are wee and in need of guidance, and the ship's clergyman Mr. Martin, Jack not liking having religious folks on board. In the plus column, there's Mowett and his many original verses, and Pullings, Bonden, and a decent enough bosun running a tight ship without Jack having to do too much. He's had worse.
The mission is BORING, though. They have to stay on the blockade, in theory keeping the French in their ports. But really, they're just standing out in the ocean and trying not to die. No chasing frigates, no taking prizes, no trips to shore. BOOOOOORING. That is, the mission is boring. Our Boys do find ways to amuse themselves.
First, we have Wee Calamy (Actual name Peter Calamy, but meh), a midshipman Jack was forced to take by Wee's mother, he having been shipmates with Wee's now-deceased father. Wee is the wee-est of the midshipmen, (his hat is far too large and the brim reaches to his nose) and so, bears the brunt of their boredom and amusement. He wants to be bigger, so the midshipmen tell him to carry a calf around the deck for an hour every morning. Which he does religiously, even though the calf kicks him every step, and all the hands laugh into their shirtsleeves. You go, Wee! Carry that calf! Grow a few hat sizes!
Mr. Martin is a man after Stephen's own heart. They talk for HOURS about birds and insects and blah blah blah droooooooooone. He is also just as bad a sailor.
Martin: Blah state of education in the poor blah drone.
Stephen: Democracy blah tyranny drone religion blah.
Pullings: Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind going below while we clean the deck for the admiral's visit?
Martin: We'd like to stay above and look for birds.
Pullings: I highly advise you to go below.
Martin: But! Birds!
Pullings: *sigh* Fine. You can go aft. They've finished that bit. But! DON'T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.
Stephen: What could we possibly do by touching things?
Pullings: Doctor. Just don't.
Stephen: Right.
*Stephen and Martin go aft and have a sit. Stephen puts his feet up on the railing*
Stephen: Now where were we?
Martin: Droooooooooone.
Stephen: Yes, but DROOOOOOOONE in the Andies-
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Excuse me, Doctor?
Stephen: Yes?
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Mr. Pullings asks that you take your feet down from the fresh paint, if you please sir.
Stephen: Oh. *thinks* Please ask Mr. Pullings how I might do that without marring the paintwork and tracking more paint across his clean deck. Thank you. Now where was I?
Martin: Droooooone. *puts feet on railing as well*
Random Wee Midshipman #6: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'll just go get my head bitten off by Mr. Pullings now. *does*
But what really cemented Mr. Martin as Stephen's buddy was the Quail Encounter. It was Sunday. Almost time for inspection, just before church services, and it is quail migration season. A whole flock of thousands of exhausted quails decide that the ship looks like a good place to rest. They *have* been flying for a good thousand miles or so. Consequently, they start falling from the sky onto the ship. A couple of them land on Jack's epaulets and go along for a ride as he is inspecting, stern as he can look with little birds plunking down left, right, and center and trying hard not to step on any of them. Martin and Stephen try to save as many as they can from the hungry sailors, but there's only two of them and hundreds of sailors who are looking on the birds as a rare Sunday treat. Then it's time for church.
Birds: yay! Places to rest! Oo! Hats to perch on!
Sailors: Yoink! *stuff birds into their shirts*
Birds: Why is it so dark?
Martin: I take for my verse today Numbers, Chapter something, Verse something. "And little birdies fell from the skies, and the tribe ateth them thinking them a blessing. But NO! The birds were GOD'S BIRDS, and those that had eaten them died horrible stinky deaths by indigestion and lightning strike."
Sailors: Ew. *release birds*
Birds: It's day again! Yay! *sleep*
Friends for life after that.
Now, as I mentioned before, life on blockade is very boring. Our Boys are very creative. They've formed a men's choir and are practicing Handel's Messiah. What they lack in talent and precision they make up in LOUD. But Jack seems to think it's coming along splendidly, especially the bass section, in which his is the dominant voice. He also decided to be a literary captain and sponsor a production of Hamlet, just like in his youth. Sadly, Jack will not be playing Ophelia this time, or any other role. He's captain and not allowed. Wee Calamy is playing Polonius, but can't remember his lines. All the sailors are excited. They've heard this Hamlet thing has a cool ending, lots of blood and fighting and stuff.
I can't wait for the production.