 |
 | |||
|
|
| |||
|
|
 |
 |
||||||||||||
| CANADA'S SOURCE FOR HUMOUR, PARODY, AND SATIRE
It seems like it was only yesterday when I was hauling reefs and rubbing the mainstaffs with pork fat. It all comes to mind as I sit here in a seaside pub, recalling those days on the high seas. It was a press gang that forced me into service, back in 1928. I was feasting up at the Rusty Scabbard, an old shanty that served the best whale steaks this side of Burma, when two crabloads of sea vermin scatterhauled the whole neck of us. I was pressed along with Freddy "Fishlens" Fastabard, Carl "Boatlegs" McKinley, and Milt "Muttonface" Calloway, land-loving lads all of us--at the time. It seems that destiny has a way of putting its boot to your teeth, because that night certainly did change me for good. Hauled we were, lot and muzzle, onto a drizzly-looking river barge, as I would call it now. The first night aboard the merchant ship "Lady Grey" was none too smooth for any of us. A faceful of lime and a quick hosing was our introduction to sea life, and though we were chained to the rig like carnival monkeys, we got supped on rum and some cheese that was harsher than John Ribbard's tongue. It weren't no feast of whale steaks and whiskey. But we knew for sure from that night, we'd be eating sound and sure from then on, and all we had to do was keep the rigging clean and the trade goods dry. The first few weeks on board "The Lady" as we called her, was full of sink-or-swim lessons. Learning the ropes was something you picked up pretty fast, lest you wanted to be looped up and used to traul for mustard sharks. The hard work made you into a man faster than a night in a Calais bordello. Poor Milt, he had never seen a callous before then, and the blisters he had would have made any surgeon chunder at the sight of them. For most of us, it was an experience that built character, and invited us to challenge the world. And challenge we did, from Eastern Batavia, to the tipe of Cape Squid. The stories I could tell would make your toes turn to vinegar. I don't regret
being conscripted into the merchant marines. I'd even trade Wil Reilly's
good leg to do it all over again.
|
|||||||||||||
 |
|
||||||||||||
| This fictional story about satire is intended for adults. | The World Leader in Canadian humour, humor, parody, and satire. | |
| Tell us what you thought. Visit our Message Boards. | HOME | DISCLAIMER | ABOUT US | Copyright 2005-2001 The Toque Entertainment. |
Sea Tales from Old Pete
