May 13, 2005

HMS Father's Folly Voyage Log : Day One

If you've not read the prologue, read it here.

In Port
I was a bit unsure about this crew at first. But the Captain assures me that, though rough looking, they are hard workers and will perform their tasks diligently. The Captain suggested rewarding them with grog but I think that I had better wait to better determine their collective disposition.

Rough looking is an understatement. These are grizzled veterans of many of the Captain's campaigns; rumpled, red, haggard, and gaunt. The one I've chosen for my First Mate is a gaunt and wiry one. A bookish sailor who is vastly more capable than she lets on. Still, the others listen to her and, I believe, her natural leadership skills may come in handy.

My trimmer is a lad more ape than man. But this suits him as he frolics among the rigging. Now, if he would only listen to my command. This one will prove to be a handful methinks.

My deckhand is indeed a wee one but the instigator of more trouble than she seems capable of. A close eye I'll need to keep on this one.

We set sail under an afternoon zephyr. I am eager to get underway but, as yet, still have no destination. I am enjoying leading this ship.

For all her talk of me being the Captain and setting direction, the Captain still managed to leave me with a (small) set of tasks to complete by end of day 3. But these are simple tasks and ones with which the crew is familiar so we will complete them with little trouble I suspect.

Ports of Entry
We have managed to complete two of the three tasks given by the Captain. The first, we needed to have part of "Father's Pride" checked out and repaired. This was done without incident though the repair has yet to be tested under stress.

The second, a health check for the crew, was all fine and the ship and her crew were all given a clean bill of health. But I soon discovered that the crew, though healthy, may not be quite as loyal as first suspected.

I thought all was going well but, upon routine inspection, I noticed that the fine black lettering on the stern that had previously spelled out Father's Pride now reads "Father's Folly". Coincidentally enough, the crew has already taken to referring to the ship and our voyage this way.

The actual re-lettering is no mean task and there are only one or two on the crew actually capable of such a sly endeavor. Yet I suspect them all, to one degree or another. This had better not continue.

The Hold is Empty
I am so mad I could spit! I had expected that the ship would be well provisioned prior to setting sail, but it would seem that the Captain had commandeered a mere husk of a ship. The stores are empty and the pantry bare but for some dry oats and hard beans. It will be a meager fare for the crew and myself until we can reprovision.

I have considered the possibility of sending up a flare for help and waiting for a restock ship to pass this way and deliver me basic necessities. They say that the HMS Simon delivers goods and necessities out this way. Yet I am loathe to admit weakness that such an act would entail just yet. I was able to find some additional basics at a nearby port but I fear that the foodstuffs I purchased will not last. Neither are they they kinds to sustain an energetic crew. They will suffice until tomorrow.

Time to swab the decks then to bunk. I love saying that. The crew ignore me.

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