Tethering

Logan is busy making me a nice tether. His knot tying is improving a lot, it's looking pretty fancy. He says it's so I don't fall in, but I overheard Captain Fraingck say the local officials don't want me swimming ashore in the Aleutians. What a bunch of segregationists. They're worried about me fraternizing with the stellar sea lions. So much for tolerance and cross cultural exhanges.

I wouldn't put a toe in their frigid waters anyway. Hmmm, maybe Kennan could add some insulation to my zip-sub, it's been too cold to use it in Hawaii. They don't want me swimming ashore, but they didn't say anything about other modes of transportation.

Scurvy, Able Sea Rat

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Ke¥boa®d ¢en$o®ed

Dea® ®eade®$,

I apologize fo® not w®iting in $¿¢h a long time, b¿t I ha^e been hinde®ed b¥ ¢aptn F®aing¢k'$ meddling. Allow me to explain..."

Be¢a¿$e of what ¢aptn. F®aing¢k ¢all$ "bia$ ¢olo®ation of the fa¢t$" in m¥ ®epo®t he ha$ ¢onfi$¢ated the $, ¢, ¿, ®, ^, and ¥ f®om the ke¥boa®d (a$ ¥o¿ ma¥ ha^e noti¢ed). Fo® month$ I wo®®ied that ¥o¿ g¿¥$ wo¿ld think that I had fallen down the $tai®$ and had gotten amne$ia o® gone into a ¢oma o® $omething (I wa$ al$o wo®®ied abo¿t m¥ blog ®ating$). I th®eatened to $¿e ¢apt'n F®aing¢k ¿nde® the fi®$t amendment b¿t he $aid that the fi®$t ammendment onl¥ applie$ to people and not to ®odent$. $o what'$ a ®ight$ dep®i^ed de¢k®at to do? ¢all on hi$ fellow ¢®ewmate$! Afte® telling them m¥ t¥ping t®o¿ble, the bo¥$ $ta®ted talking abo¿t ¢¿®®en¢¥ t®ading, e^e®¥ time I t®ied to $tee® the ¢on^e®$ation ba¢k to the ta$k at hand the¥ went ba¢k to Dolla®$ and ¥en. An ho¿® late® howe^e®, Logan and Kennan ¢ame ¿p with a b®illiant plan. ¿ntil I get m¥ own ke¥boa®d, I will $¿b$tit¿te the ke¥$ I wo¿ld no®mall¥ ¿$e with the $, ¢, ¿, ®, ^ , and ¥ ke¥$ whi¢h a$ ¥o¿ ¢an $ee wo®k q¿ite well.

$¢¿®^ ¥

Don't Gamble!

I have some advice for you guys. Don't gamble! If you already do gamble, I suggest you seek your adrenaline rush elsewhere (e.g. cliff diving, tornado chasing, shopping on Black Friday, all of which I've tried, but that's another story). In particular, do not gamble with that no good, lying, over-sized, purple paunched ferret, Captn. Fraingck! Cause he will leave you just like me $300 bucks (and a roach buddy may he rest in peace), in the hole without an iota of coconuts to spare. I was forced to sell the two kayaks and I was still short $10. So, I  took more drastic measures. I made a deal with a reptile (almost as untrustworthy as Capt Fraingck). I offered my client, a scrappy gecko, a one way trip to the neighboring island in exchange for a gambling opportunity with me and my shipmates, on the condition that I get 30% of his winnings. Reptiles love gambling, so it was a win win for  him.

"Fifteen percent," he countered.

"Twenty,"  I said.

"Fifteen," he said meaningfully (the guy must have seen how desperate I was).

I paused, then responded, "Twenty, and all the bugs I can catch."

"Deal," he said after a moment's calculation.

After reaching our destination five hours later, things were looking' up. There was a moment in the beginning when Capt'n Fraingck asked what the gecko was betting with, and the guy put down a meager five bucks. The Capt'n said that wasn't enough so the lizard dismembered his own tail and slapped it on top of the fiver (the tail was still wiggling). With my game in one hand and a flyswatter in the other, I managed to keep my head above water. The gecko was raking in the chips and chomping on flies  (we don't actually use chips, but seashells instead). After he cleaned us all out, and everyone had paid him off, the sneak tried to make a run for it (sticky fingers I guess). Quickly, I jumped on top of the escapee, before he could reach the water.

"Hey, no lizard handling!" he cried.

"Come on,:" I said brandishing the flyswatter, "We had a deal."

"Oh that." the gecko said with an evil grin. Then he shoved his bloody tail into my hands. I jumped back in shock and that cold-blooded weasel hopped into the water cackling as he swam to shore with his winnings. Capt'n Fraingck thought that was funny too, until I threw the gecko's tail at him. Now there are two people I know never to gamble with.

Scurvy Able Sea-Rat

Two Years Before the Mast (read Richard Henry Dana)

Yep, like Mr Dana, I did it too. Capt'n Fraingck may not be as mean as the capt'n of the Pilgrim was, but he is no frangipani either. He has his moods, and loves to sail with all canvas up. We sailed 18,000 miles in those two years. Long Wake Silver deserves her nickname.

Last night we were playing cards with the boys. It was a fun game of UNO, mostly for Wonderbread who was raking in the chips like a pro from the Cunard ship line. Then Capt'n Fraingck caught him with a piece of a card stuck in his mandibles. SPLAT!!! My friend Wonderbread was crushed flat in the palm of Capt'n Fraingck right hand. The boss lifted his hand, and Wonderbread was stuck to it, a goopy mess of red backed card oozing out of his abdomen and a piece of a card sticking out of his crushed skull. "Cheater" said capt'n Fraingck wiping his hand off on his engine room rag.

After that I started to loose big time. You never saw a rat losing so fast. My tab is down to minus 36,000 francs. Now Capt'n Fraingck has been super nice to me and in recognition of my long term effort supporting the good moral of the crew, and doing chores without too much shouting about; he released me from the brig, and promoted me to Able Sea Shipmate. Now I can say I'm an A.S.S.

Oh cats! Old Fraingck really nailed me this time.

Scurvy, Able Sea-rat

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A Riotous Happy New Year

Postdated: 7 Jan 2012

After a nice month of festival and exploration, I found myself imprisoned in the chain locker the day Leo left, as requested by Margo and enforced by that bawling blastfumas dog Fraingck (thanks Shakespear). Imagine, me having to do time for the minor infraction of keeping Margo up one measly little night. Let me explain myself in the hopes that my fans will come to save me.

On the third day of the year 2012, I decided to throw a party in celebration of my third year aboard, and the world not having ended yet. With the help of Wonderbread, we set out to party. We grabbed snacks and coconuts, prepared a corner of the bilge for our purpose, and called/radioed in some friends. A bit later they all swam over. Tourettes , a red-eyed, white-colored, rat of undefinable species, hailing from Australia, now living in the Marquesas, joined us. An intellectual guy, he is writing a book called "Cursing Through the Ages: A Compendium of Choice Expletives from the Famous Dead" (warning only lightly censored). Molasses, a brown rat adopted by roaches, arrived with his roach uncle Toe Jam (don't ask) on his back. It didn't take long to get some good card games going (thanks for those suggestions).

Soon I heard Molasses say "Hey, what's this?" holding up a bottle of liquid cane sugar.

"Sugar," I replied.

Exactly six minutes and fifteen seconds later, we had finished the bottle and Molasses got a major sugar rush. He was vibrating so fast I think he started emitting radio waves. Then Toe Jam climbed into the bottle and started hamster-wheeling his way across the boat. After a moment Wonderbread joined in and Molasses jumped on top.

"Are you toxoplasmotic!" Tourettes said, twitching up his head from Capt'n Fraingck's Shakespearian insults mug.

Eventually everyone got rolled over by the bottle at least once (roaches inside the bottle excluded) and finally after a particularly fast run, the bottle shattered against the wall. Everything went downhill from there, the roaches shot off just as Margo came in and yelled something like "FraingckwatsthisbleepmessSCURVYbleepbleepbleep!!!" (expletives removed) Her insults were not nearly as creative as Shakespear's, but she gave Tourettes a run for his money and perhaps inspiration for a sequel to his compendium.

At this point everyone ran. Wonderbread instantly disappeared into the bilge, Molasses stopped for a tenth of a second to grab Toe Jam and jump over the side. Only one point two seconds later Tourettes cursed and followed, leaving innocent me to face Fraingck's wrath at being rudely awakened to defend me from the mate's wrath.

So Leo, apologies for not saying a proper farewell, hugs to your little ratdog. When I break this joint, maybe I'll come visit for some R and R.

Scurvy, Deckpaw

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The Bug, The Blade and Black Jack

There is a new stowaway on board,and I am glad to say that my entry was much less exciting than Wonder Bread's, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started the other night after Captn Fraingck, Margo, and our visitor Leo had gone to bed, Kennan was in the forepeak working on some sort of electronic doohicky with lights and alarms, while Logan and I were reading a book on how to survive in the wilderness (thanks Marc). As I remember, we were debating whether or not the advice about black bears was really meant to be read by rats.

"I'm not sure the author had rats in mind, scurvy," Logan said.

"What do you mean?" I asked,"It's not like we can't read, and it says right here:'If you encounter a black bear DO NOT run, fight back."

"Yes, but you're so small,"Logan replied.

"WHAT! ME? SMALL?!"I challenged rising to my full awesome height.

Luckily, Kennan saved Logan's "size-ist" butt. "Hey guys, there's a roach in here," Kennan called trying to sound casual.

All thoughts of rat versus bear combat evaporated. We've had very few cockroaches onboard, and those we have had do not live long after their discovery. Logan, armed with a pencil, went into the forepeak with me close behind. Kennan was pointing to a knot in the wood of the wall across from him. Then I noticed that the knot was waving it's antennae. "Wow he's uh...big," Logan said with his usual amount of elokwence.

"Oh, I see, first you say that I'm small, then you say that he's big!"

"Here, this should work better than that pencil,"Kennan said, handing Logan a dive knife. Logan (with the 20 foot long alien roach from "Men in Black" fresh in his mind) took the knife.

In my younger years, I had to scrape my living out of a sewer (remind me to tell you guys about that later), so I, unlike you humans, knew that roaches aren't half bad (I wasn't exactly confident in Logan's knifework either). Just as Logan was about to dissect the poor periplaneta, I jumped between the blade and the bug and cried out,"STOP!" All of them froze and looked at me,"You can't kill him...And put that knife away Logan, you're scaring me."

Logan and Kennan looked at each other and  shrugged. Putting down his knife, Logan asked,"Why shouldn't we? They're just scurying scum-suckers without a brain cell to spare."

The roach angrily waved its antennae in (well deserved) indignation."Because it's not right," I replied pie-ously.

"Great, first a cockroach, now a rat with a conscience, not to mention how the others will react." Kennan grumbled.

"I'll keep him hidden fro-Hey! You have a problem with a rat with a conscience?!" I said.

Logan sighed,"OK, the roach stays, but not in my bed."

So I took the roach to my secret stash in the bilge. I sat on a can of sardines while the bug ate some crumbs in the corner. "I don't think I got your name in all that excitement," I said trying to make conversation.

"Wonder Bread," the roach said after a moment.

"Oh, I see. What's your favorite food?" I asked in an attempt to learn more about my new roommate.

"Wonder Bread," announced Wonder Bread.

This was confusing, until I remembered a piece of sewer trivia: Roaches are named after their favorite foods (this leads to frequent name changing among the more adventurous eaters).

"So..."I said just as I noticed a deck of cards (thanks again Marc), "Do you know any card games?"

Wonder Bread twiddled his antennae excitedly, "Garbage!" he said.

Thus began the first of many card games with the new stowaway. Not just Garbage but Poker, Black Jack, Gin Rummy, Crazy Eights, Texas Hold'em, you name it. But we're running out of new games so if you know any please tell me.

Scurvy Deckpaw

Abandon Ship!

My deadline is up - literally. I recently discovered to my dread that I do not have the materials to build a rat dog trap. So I went to plan A2, since plan A failed and I almost never have a plan B. Plan A2: ABANDON SHIP. Some might argue that this should be called plan Z, but it's my permanent default plan A, so A it is. Once I had made up my mind to temporarily abandon ship, (...what...you think I was going to leave the steel fortress that brings me to coconut covered islands?!?), I waited for what looked like shore-leave preparations, grabbed my plan A bag and stowed my self away in the captain's backpack, despite captain fraingck's old rule that I had to carry my own fat tail.

I waited till I had a chance to jump out when wham wham wham wham, four car doors slammed. My plan had backfired, we were driving to the airport in a rental car! Worst of it being (after some exploration) this car was brand new. The only rat holes were on the outside, and would have taken hours to open up. By the time I looked up again, we seemed to have driven to some place in Oregon, the only thing among the pines to show we were in the tropics was the red dirt and some fern trees. We started to descend a scary winding road, and the landscape got drier and drier. I guessed that this side of the island didn't get much rain. Soon we arrived at the airport which was above a small cliff that dropped into the sea - the flattest place on the island. I had to get to the other side or starve! I saw no coconuts anywhere near the airport. So I started widening one of the possible rat holes and ratdog proofing it, with a vague backup plan of climbing a tree if chased off before finishing.

Luckily, the plane was delayed two hours and I had time to finish my hiding place and make a view hole into the parking lot. Finally, the plane landed and Leo walked into sight without the ratdog! My brain started shorting out, then I remembered that customs didn't let animals in without a forty day quarantine (stowaways excluded). Once she came close I heard her say, "Where's Scurvy, I've been looking forward to meeting him." I, being flattered and relieved, timidly showed myself and was bombarded with questions about my adventures.

Scurvy deckpaw

Tday in the Marquises

After some light cruising in the Tuamotus (rat heaven on earth), we have arrived in the Marquises, land of the cannibals, where mana flows like blood. Now that I have set you in a mood of despair, let me say that we had a wonderfully and uneventful Thanksgiving (without coconuts, but the pie made up for their absence)remember I'm a pieRat, with a French guy (single-handers are always hungry, the expression on his face when we explained the holiday was priceless "just food and thanks?!" That's it! No other strings attached to Captain Fraingck's favorite holiday). Then we sailed to the Island of Tahuata (again - 18 months later). We are anchored by  a town of Catholics with a church funded by the big P himself. Tahuatans are also the first in the Marquises to become Catholic, and the area is safe from cannibals.

In other news, I have discovered that Captain Fraingck is not getting a lion, but that the school representative, Leo is coming and after my momentary relief, I remembered that she's the lady with the rat dog! My trap has to be reconfigured.

Scurvy Deckpaw.

Teahupoo

Oct. 28, 2011

Today we arrived at the famous surf spot Teahupoo (pronounced Joe Poe). While the rest of the crew decided to go snorkeling, I went to catch some waves. I paddled out and stood on my rat board. Everything went perfectly...for the first five seconds. Then the wave overpowered me and sucked me to the top of the wave. I pictured myself in an awful picture depicting the world vertically, it went like this: sky, me, wave, air, board, more air, an insufficient amount of water, and finally the reef - then the wave crashed. I had summersaulted through the air, smashed my board in two, and face planted in the reef. I was ground across the reef and my teeth jammed into some cheese coral just as a rat trap clam snagged my tail. With the next wave I was suspended with my nose just out of the water in another totem like image: my nose, my teeth, the coral, my soggy body, my tail, and the clam. The next wave dislodged me and I swam home, another victim of Teahupoo. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that that damned captain Fraingck was ordering a lion. I saw it in the subject line of an email, "Leo coming."  Time to devise a lion trap.

Scurvy Deckpaw

Coconuts Finally!

So the other day we arrived at Raivavae and -finally- I found coconuts. I was excited but when we got ashore I found that they were all green, that's fine if you're thirsty, but there's no crunchy chewy tasty meat in them. After a week, we sailed around the island and anchored off a smaller island. I went ashore with Logan in a kayak but we both had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched and we left quickly. The next day, the captain started an expedition to find meaty coconuts, and of course I came along. When we landed on the same beach Logan and I had visited, we found the thing that was watching us...a goat! Complete with a pair of curly horns and a beard. Captn Fraingck told us that goats could be malicious creatures, and to watch our backs, but in my excitement to lay tooth into juicy white coconut meat, I ignored his advice. I jumped up onto a branch and started looking up for a tree with yellower browner nuts, when BAM I was flying towards the nearest fronds, it actually felt like the tree was falling towards me. I'd been hit smack in the butt by the goat's bent horns and was sent flying past the perfect coconut, halfway across the small island. The crew had hiked around the island to try to find an easier tree to climb, I landed next to them. Captn Fraingck scolded me for being so slow, and then sent me up another tree to pick my portion. I got Kennan to help me carry them back (he's not so wild about coconuts, so his "portion" consisted of one mini coconut). We later learned that there was supposed to be a tupapau (Tahitian for ghost) on the island. A ghost of what, a goat? He seemed solid enough to me! Life as crew is hard - hard on your butt.

~scurvy, deckpaw~

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Rapa not for Rats

Posted dated from 30 April 2011

The other morning I woke up to a LAND HO. I was already planning my escape, but as soon as I looked out my plan was shattered. A barren rock stuck out of the horizon. Captn Fraingck called it Marotini. I ate breakfast and went back to my spot, nose tucked between Kennan's toes, feeling cheated. By the time I looked out again the next day, we were at anchor, this time near a lush island. Thrilled, I jumped out the hatch and joined the shore party. I soon discovered that the island had no coconuts, no birds and no cheese. I was disappointed in the gods. I heard that there was a wizard's island in the middle of the bay. I ventured out to explore the cone shaped island, but discovered that there were no wizards to grant my wish of coconuts. I was disappointed again. The next day while talking to some people my crew mates had met, we found out that on the mountain there was lots of fruit. The first mate selected me as a member of an expedition to the top, but i was not permitted to ride in the backpack since this expedition counted as P.E. - thrice disappointed and once cheated. As we walked up the mountain panting we discovered an orange tree with all the good fruit out of safe reach, which I was ordered to fetch; and lots of small red guavas, which didn't taste so bad, but the mass of seeds were hard and were not nice on my rat guts. However, we picked a whole ton and when we got back to the boat made them into jam. I tried to argue that juice would be much better (no seeds) but was vetoed. I am having a miserable time and officially rate the island of Rapa on the rat scale at a stunning ZERO.

Give me the real tropics, give me coconuts!

~Scurvy,Deckpaw

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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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Quick test

Just a quick test of feedburner. Feedburner, the name makes me hungry. Although normally I prefer my food unburnt, and cooked to perfection by Captain Fraingck.

Scurvy

Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,
In my family we never celebrated Christmas or anything for that matter, but I hear you give out goodies so I've taken up the tradition.

I also hear that I have to give presents too, but I'm dirt poor and can't afford anything, so if giving presents is a requirement, then I would like to add "presents from scurvy" to my wish-list (but nothing for that tyrannical captain Fraingck! Except maybe kerosine instead of coal - it's more his style). But enough about others, on to my own wish-list. For Christmas I would like a shark proof rat sub, coconut flavored cheddar, a crab basher like a Maori club, and a rat-sized automatic three-shot gas operated speargun.

-Scurvy Rat-

A New School

I'm sorry I haven't been writing as much as usual, but I've been so busy with S.Q.U.A.A.A.A.A.K.Y. That's short for Scurvy's Quick Undergraduate Academy of Anti-Aeronautic Avians Against Killing Yourself. It's a school I set up for the flightless birds of New Zealand so that they can learn the most critical skill a bird can learn (if in unorthodox ways). My students were a bit skeptical at first, "Why should I take lessons from the same animal that eats my eggs?" the Kiwi asked.

"I already know how to swim, why fly?" said the penguin.

"If I die because I jump off a cliff, there'll only be 146 of my species left," the Kakapoo complained.

"But birds were meant to fly!" I exclaimed.

"Says who," said the penguin.

"Says evolution!" I said. The birds looked at me with a blank stare. "You know...Darwin's finches?" I said.

"Finches are jerks," the kiwi muttered.

I could see I wasn't getting anywhere with these guys, so I brought out my SQUAAAAAKY spokesbird, an albatross I had met on the way down.

"Land sucks," he sighed funereally. This was basically his central thesis. He went on and on about land like it was a dead family member he really didn't like anyway. He was very convincing, and eventually they all caved. Then he somberly flew back to the sea.

We started with bungie jumping so they would get used to the whole in-the-air thing. Now we're at the glider phase (with Kennan's help, I designed gliders like mine for each of them). The kiwi is having the most trouble. I guess some birds weren't meant to fly, but I'm determined that SQUAAAAAKY will succeed. Merry Christmas

-Scurvy-

Marine Biologist

It was a beautiful afternoon on the Tasman sea, a hundred miles southwest of Cape Maria VanDiemen. As I was admiring the flight of a very large albatross, a humongous whale surfaced not far up wind. The stench of it engulfed us as the spray fell on us. The sperm whale has only one blow hole toward the front of it's massive head. The head is about a third of the body. It's eyes are ridiculously small. A blink from Moby, a wave of the tail, and it was gone.

Silence again.

A little later Logan spotted two more doing some synchronized swimming, no matter how big, they are graceful swimmers, the waltz of the sperm lasted only a few minutes at the surface, but undoubtedly it continued a mile deeper.

Silence again.

when another one surfaced Logan talked about how some scientists use a radio controlled helicopters to collect DNA from the spout of a whale. Kennan complained that his helicopter was out of service. Logan, Q-tip in hand, was bummed. The whale lifted it's tail and followed the others down into the grand blue ocean.

A short silence.

This time a whale twice the size of the others, the bull of the pod presumably, surfaced at a ninety  degree angle to us, just off our starboard bow. Captain Fraingck grabbed the q-tip, shoved it in my mouth, and threw me over the bow onto the leviathan. The landing was not graceful but I made it. Logan screamed: "Go get the sample scurvy, go!"

I was right on the spout, q-tip in paw, when the monster took in a great gulp of air. Well you guessed it, the little rat was inhaled by the big monster.

It was dark in there, and the descent into the abyss was vertical, and long - very, very long. I heard the whale clacking; he was echo-locating his squiddy prey.  A loud snapping of the jaw was followed by the start of a slow ascent. Twenty minutes later, the whale surfaced, and I was blown thirty feet in the air. From up there I saw Silver Lining making circles. I landed not too far from a life buoy that was adrift. The inscription on the life ring said Arctic Chieftain, Freemantle. I was safe. the boys found me soon. I had lost the q-tip but I was covered with whale snot.
Logan said: "Where do we send our sample now?"
Captain Fraingck answered:"Go wash your rat!"


Scurvy

Flying Under the Radar

We arrived in New Zealand late at night, and after docking and hot chocolate, everyone went to bed. I wasn’t tired, so I went for a midnight stroll across the quarantine dock. On the way, I saw a sign with a series of animals on it, all with crosses through them. There were mice, ants, dogs, cats, roaches, and (get this!) RATS! So I spent the next hour on the boat with a paper and pencil freezing my tail off trying to figure out a plan. As the night wore on, more and more boats started showing up, and that’s when I made my plan, well more of a scheme really.

The next morning I crawled up to the top of the mast with my bat suit on, and waited. There were sixteen other boats at the quarantine dock, which meant that customs would be in such a hurry to get through all the boats that they would not notice a rat fly past. Everything was going swimmingly until I fell asleep, maybe it was the morning sun, maybe the long crossing, but I dozed off. When I woke up, the customs officer was quickly walking towards Silver Lining, so I awkwardly jumped off tumbling through the air trying to catch the wind (like the bats had explained to me). As I fell, I heard a doppler effect ringtone, and just as I caught the air it stopped. I was gliding in an odd position that I had never been in before but which I will now call “The Air Backstroke.” (any comments for a better name?). From my position you could see he was reading a text message that read, “ Want to do lunch?” I flewunder the radar arch and on to the safety of land.

Scurvy

Another Great Escape

We had a good time in Tonga. The coconuts were plentiful and so yummy!
A day after we left I overheard capt'n Fraingck telling Margo with great concern "We are being chased by two cats," My blood almost curdled! So I ran on deck with my new foulies the boys had made for me from a surgical glove - I don't care for the color purple, but that's another story. The weather is foul to say the least, waves wash the deck twenty times a minute, the temperature is down in the sixties, the wind is in the twenties. This I endure in silence trimming sails night and day... The Cats are still behind us! May this wind last until we reach the New Zealand customs officials. According to the customs papers quote: "All dogs, cats, and birds will be destroyed." Nothing in there about rats though.

-Scurvy-