“Silver Adventures”- Captain Joshua Slane –16DE19- ‘A vessel?! What kind of vessel?!’

⛵ ⛵ ⛵ ⛵...(Tour of "High Island")...

[Last time...]

With eight oars the crew then pushed with a mighty force and set the smaller frigate drifting away from the starboard rail of the Silverton. Galligan ordered the foresails unfurled and the big ship slowly began to pull away towards the south-west. In ten minutes time the fiery hulk of the Vaillante lit-up the night in the distance like a falling star!

“Ahh think we're in a lot of fockin' trooble noow…" Errislravenhill mumbled.
“Aye…” Ickied replied as he solemnly watched the fiery spectacle, “Ahh think Ahh'll takes one of those cookies efterall…"

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[On the Silverton, South Labrador Sea…]

As the footsteps of the Commander slowly faded away down the narrow hallway from the great cabin, the Captain put out his pipe and exhaled heavily. He clenched his eyes shut tight and then opened them again before getting up and walking across the cabin to his bed.

He sat down and pulled off his jack boots and let them fall to the floor with a heavy thud. With his hands on his knees he let the events of the last day race through his mind. It was a string of emotions he could not cut-off and he fell back on the bed exhausted.

As the ship gently rolled he finally fell into a fitful sleep…

[Long ago…eighty miles north-east of British Virgin islands…]

The sun was barely visible in the dense early morning fog as the three-masted British schooner sliced gracefully through the waters. The crew was busy setting the rigging for a hard run as all on board wanted nothing more than to arrive. The journey had been a long one, many weeks and the small group of passengers stood up on deck, anxious to feel the hiding sun.

“Mammy, Watch me stain oan th' bowsprit!" A young boy called out to his mother as he climbed through the coils of rope on the fore deck.
“Be cannie son! We'll be landin' in Wickhams Cay tommoraw! Ahh dornt want ye fallin' over-board afair we meet-up wi' yer faither! Come doon froms thaur!”

“Och Mammy! Ye woory sae much! Besides, Ahh’m a guid swimmer!” The young boy protested as he turned back and jumped onto the main deck.

Suddenly, one of the seaman called out, “Yo! Vessel due east! A half mile oot!”
“A vessel?! Whit kind of vessel?!” The Captain yelled back.
”An armed Balener for sure Sairrr!” The seaman yelled out from above.
“An armed Balener?!” The Captain said out-loud, ”Whit colors is she flyin’ cheil?!”
"Too foggy tae see yit Sairrr!"
“Damn-it!” The Captain cursed as he turned to another sailor, “Sit arr riggin' taught! Ahh want every inch of clootie catchin' wind!"
“Aye Sairrr!”

A younger officer approached the small bridge, “Can we ootrin 'er Sairrr?"
“Nae if they see us, it's an armed whaler, fest an' steady oan th' seas!" He replied nervously, “Git th’ passengers belaw!”
“Aye Sairrr!”

The young officer raced down onto the main deck, “Alright, alright! Aw' fowk doon belaw noow! Be guid mates an' git belaw!"

The well dressed young woman clenched the hand of her son tightly as she and the others made their way back to towards the rear of the schooner.

“What is it? What's wrang?" She asked as she approached the young officer.
“Nothin' is wrang, naethin' at aw’. Th' Keptin wants aw passengers tae gang belaw."
“But wa? What’s oot thaur?” The woman persisted.
“Naethin' tae woory aboot! Mam, please gang belaw noow!" The officer said again, this time with noticeable tension on his voice.

Pulling the young boy along, the woman glanced out over the foggy sea as she made her way down towards the stairs. The ocean was grey and the air was tight around them. She felt an uncomfortable notion well-up within her that something was not right. But what?

[Present time…on the Silverton…]

With the burning hull of the frigate Vaillante now just a speck of light on the dark horizon, Commander Galligan held a steady wheel west-south-west towards Newfoundland. The wind was steady and growing colder and he buttoned his jacket all the way up. The last two days had been rougher than he could remember in a long, long time and after a bit, he asked Seaman- Quarter Gunner Ickied to take over…

“Hauld a tight coorse west-sooth-west.”
“Aye Sairrr.”

Leaving the bridge, the Galligan headed towards the galley stairs and fatigue was beginning to weigh heavy upon him. Sleep was his top priority now and as he made his way down into the ship towards his cabin, he noticed that a crack of light was still shining from under Warrant Officer – Surgeon Hack’s door. Hesitating a moment, he finally stopped just outside and rapped on the smooth, varnished wood.

<<<Nock! Nock! Nock! >>>

“Who’s thaur?!” The slightly hoarse voice of Hack called out.

‘He is awake…’ Galligan thought, “It’s me, Commander Galligan…”
“Comes in…”

⛵ ⛵ ⛵ ⛵

Vocab fur lainlubbers:

cannie (careful)
clootie (cloth)
stain (stand)
naethin (nothing)
thaur (there)
wrang (wrong)

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"Confused? Ascared? Seasick? Need a private chat with the Captain?" - [email protected]

References: Pictures from: kerrislravenhill's stack, www.freeimages.com, www.pexels.com, pixabay.com, steemit.com an’ www.google.com/maps. Data loosely interpretted froms: Wikipedia, an' sometimes finely crafted reit from th' author's extensiff personal experience an' such.