For the love of coconuts!

April 13, 2011

So I took capt'n Fraingck's "sailor" comment as an invitation and after much thought, asked if I could sign on as official crew. He agreed but as crew I had to sign the articles.

They read:
-One shall obey commands from the captain and all superiors promptly and with enthusiasm.(everybody in my case)
-One shall always wear his harness on deck (a harness was made to fit me. I don't like the crotch strap but I wear it)
-One shall not dance on the galley counter and always wash hands and feet before using the galley.(I think he made that one up for me)
-One shall eat what is served, all of it, and no rummaging in the cupboards at midnight.(I asked Kennan and he said he had to sign that one too. there might be some bargaining to do with him there?)
-One shall sleep in his own bunk and not on the Capt'n's face, First Mate excepted.(fair enough)
-One shall sit down when using the head at sea.(Capt'n Fraingck agreed to take the lid off the toilet so I wouldn't get slammed in anymore.)
-For a salary of 1/1,000,000 of a share. (one millionth that's not very generous, but it's a non-profit anyway so it doesn't really matter, probably just covering his butt if he ever does make any money)

I dipped my right hand in the squid ink and applied my signature at the bottom of the articles. They even gave me a watch cap, foulies made of a surgical glove, and a blanket for my bunk, I have to make my own woolies though. I now have the title of Scurvy the Swab. Sounds great eh! Basically, I'm a deckpaw.

-Scury Swab-

P.S. We are heading for French Polynesia, the coconut islands. I can already smell the sweet aroma of copra drying on the rack.

sent from my iPaw
at 18:00 UTC position 45 36'S 179 52'W Heading 067T Speed 6.8KT

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Still Onboard

Postdated: April 12, 2011

Chatham island was even tougher than New Zealand, and not one coconut tree. So I'm still here. I've been hiding out at the bottom of Kennan's sleeping bag. His toes are almost always there so it stays nice and toasty. Sometimes he even reads aloud to me and I get to fight dragons and escape goblins with him.

Everybody has these nice new NZ wooly underwear, but no one bothered to get me any, my fur is supposed to be my advantage. They could have at least picked up a couple pairs of gloves and a tale warmer in that nice no-itch wool, I don't have much fur at the extremities.

Yesterday, Kennan was gone for longer than usual. I ventured out to sneak a peak, turns out it was sunny. Margo caught me on deck and forced me to do calisthenics with the kids. She had us stretching our legs in ways that rat legs are not meant to stretch. Then Capt'n Fraingck started a riggers lesson in the cockpit. The kids had these nice thick 3-strand lines to work, but he gave me a lanyard project for attaching whistles to the lifevests. Do you know how many lifevests we have onboard? A lot more than there are people! And he gave me this fine braided nylon cord - try splicing that! When I complained that splicing line this complex required opposable thumbs, he barked, "Use your teeth, sailor" Isn't that sweet, he called me sailor! Do you think that qualifies as a promotion from stowaway to deckrat?

-Scurvy-

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Mbunay

Postdated: April 1, 2011

After a long season of epic adventures in New Zealand, we're underway again. I kept a diary, but right now it reads like one long chase scene with a couple cataclysmic events. The short version is kiwis are a tough bunch and they do not like rats! I've decided someone on board needs to make some money for Silver Lining Academy, so I plan to send inquiries to editors for publishing rights to my story.

Back onboard and underway, "Mbunay" that is how we pronounce the name of this cyclone that was charging toward us and Capt'n Fraingck ordered course to be made for Akaroa. Just as we were in view of the entrance light, I could smell the French baguettes, the croissants au beurre, the pain au chocolat...Capt'n Fraingck changed his mind and set course due east. Away from the old French colonial town, away from the bakery, toward the windy Chathams. At two in the morning Fapt'n Craingck sent me on the bow with a gaffe with orders to keep an eye on the date line and make sure to push it under, thus the gaffe. Latitude 45 degrees 30'S, Longitude 180 degrees 00'E?W?, with southwest winds at thirty knots, we were plowing thru the frigid sea, the mollywawks making fun of me all the way. "Practical joke," I never saw the dammed line. Capt'n. Fraingck cackled from the cockpit, "Poisson d'avril!" Then he tossed a sardine right in my face. That had the mollymawks rolling on the water (ROTWLOL). Real funny French tradition, throwing fish at fools on April 1. The sardine wasn't bad, didn't taste like poison at all. At daylight I was sent to bed shivering.

As soon as we reach the Chathams I'm jumping ship.

-Scurvy-

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