Deep Water and Shoals II

[Tonguez]

(OOC All: Sorry for my lack of posting. Has anyone else noticed that the boards are logging them off when they try to post? I've been trying to get on for a week or so, but I've been having the same problem.)

ooc Yep had the xact same problem for a while - better now (cleaned out all me cookies to get it going)

IC
Malachi makes a last few calculations and checks back on the charts before passing instructions on and then sits back and watches the crew, especially the new Orc crewmen go about their duties.

"Be a gud dey fer'it" he grins

(just to reiterate the Nav check was 18 (9+9))

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas almost stops the orc from using the "Sir," but realizes at the last moment that he is, in fact, an officer. He contents himself with a camraderly grin, and a pat on the (lower) back. "I'm certain they'll be ship-shape in no time. Perh'ps we'll meet every third day, at shift change? I can work with you after I'm done on the wheel."

 

[Tonguez]

His duty done Malachi turns and goes to watch the orc crewmen at work...

 

[Bob Aberton]

Vemuz,

"Not at th' moment, Mr. Thriceborn," the Captain says, squinting at the men in the fore-rigging, where some of the Orcs, directed by a stream of cheerful profanity from Ben Stern and Luc d'Erville, have set up tackle to the deadeye lanyards and are hauling the shrouds taut once more. "Glad t'hear thet y' think so highly o' the new hands. Strong backs, at th' very least, eh?"

He peers over the side of the rail at the water, a deep blue color for the moment, but soon to be the green-tinted water of the tropics.

From up on the foredeck, you can hear a commotion. A small knot of sailors from the starboard watch are gesturing over the bows, and you can see one of them flourishing (in what seems to you a very clumsy manner) a harpoon.

"Fore-deck, there," the Captain roars. "What's all this commotion about? Seen our lucky shark yet?"

The Orcs in the fore-rigging are distracted momentarily from their task, but Ben Stern is an experienced sailor who knows his duties flawlessly, and gently directs their attention back to the deadeye lanyards with a cheerful shout of "Ahoy, there, y' infernal sons o' fishmongers! What did th' bo'sun tell y'? Clap on t' thet tackle, an' don't stop haulin' till y' can bend an oak plank 'round them shrouds!"

(OOC: Sailors believed it was good luck to cut the tail off the first shark caught on a voyage and nail the tail to the end of the bowsprit.)

Malthas,

"Yas, sar, dat be a fine idea, sar. Ev'ry third day, at dhe changin' o' dha watch," Anansai says agreeably, knuckling his forehead in a fair approximation of a salute. Stowing his cutlass, he trots off to the fore-rigging, where under the beady eye of Mr. Thriceborn, the Orcs and Ben Stern are tightening the foremast shrouds.

"SE by E 1/2 S, Mr. Swifthand," the Captain calls, as you take the wheel from John Stout, who stretches his sore arms with relief. At the same time, you hear a commotion upon the foredeck, where a small knot of sailors from the Starboard watch are gesturing excitedly over the bow, and one is flourishing a harpoon.

"Fore-deck, there!" roars the Captain. "What's all this commotion about? Seen our lucky shark yet?"

(OOC: Sailors believed it was good luck to cut off the tail of the first shark caught on a voyage, and nail it to the end of the bowsprit.)

Malachi,

The Orcs are at work upon the fore-rigging, tightening the foremast shrouds by heaving on the deadeye lanyards under the direction of Mr. Thriceborn the bo'sun.

Over on the foredeck, a small group of sailors from the starboard watch are gesturing excitedly over the bows and one is flourishing a harpoon.

"Fore-deck, there!" roars the Captain. "What's all this commotion about? Seen our lucky shark yet?"

(OOC: Sailors believed it was good luck to cut off the tail of the first shark caught on a voyage, and nail it to the end of the bowsprit.)

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas grins at the orc. "Sounds like an excellent plan, sir."

He takes the wheel, making corrections as he does slightly, without letting Mr. Stout notice.

He watches over the rail curiously, but doesn't get too involved - sharks see his kind as light meals, rather than threats. He'll let the big lunks handle the ritual.

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz grabs his harpoon from it's resting place on deck and moves to the front of the ship with a swiftness surprisingly in contradiction to his bulky form. His voice booms out across the ship. "What goes there, sailors?"

 

[Uriel]

Coming aboedecks to get a bit of air, Nicodemus yawns and looks about, wondering at the commotion to the Ship's fore.

<Nat '1' on Spot...er. Listen was a 22, however>

Artimus scampers up into the rigging, glad to be free of the lab, if for only a brief period.

 

[Tonguez]

The Orc is not so quick to assume that it may be a shark the sailors have seen, there are many more things in the oceans besides. Moving to join the spectacle Malachi's eyes wandered down to the pattern of marks and motif along his arm, mentally highlighting the details of its many sharks

"they are the belly of a great shark" old Mogwi would point to the thick band of stars at the center of the heavens "learn its ways and you will always come home"

 

[Bob Aberton]

(OOC All: Sorry about my prolonged absence, life's been hectic, got a new job, etc. etc. I'm probably going to be able to post more frequently now that my life's calmed down a bit, but I can't be sure, March is always a crazy month for me...)

Nicodemus,

While you can't see what is going on on the foredeck, you can hear the sailors talking about this voyage's "lucky shark."

Malachi,

While there are many things in the ocean that are not sharks, this time you do see the telltale "leg-o'-mutton sail fin" slicing about in the foaming wake curling back from the GRACE's cutwater.

"John Shark's a-cruisin'!" one of the sailors says jubilantly. "Stick 'im, Mr. Thriceborn!"

Vemuz,

"John Shark's a-cruisin'!" shouts a sailor who you recognize as Lem Harvey. "Stick 'im, Mr. Thriceborn!"

Judging by the size of the telltale fin, the shark is a good sized one, though by no means the size of monsters you saw in your whaling days, sharks the size of longboats which would be drawn from miles around by the blood of a dying whale, a yarn which would make good telling to the crew, should they ever need a bit of shaking up....This shark is perhaps twelve feet long, a little more than half the size of the GRACE's longboat.

The shark is circling about in the foamy wake curling back from the GRACE's cutwater, keep pace with the ship. A sailor had already rigged a bowline and tackle from the tip of the bowsprit to haul the shark aboard, should somebody succeed in their attempt to "stick 'im."

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz looks confidently over the railing at the shark. He addresses the sailor who is brandishing a harpoon. "You there sailor. I'll give you one shot at him. Two mugs of grog and a night off if you bring him in. Now stop waving that thing around like a bloody dog with a bone. Feet apart...like this...steady and feel the motion of the boat. Bend with it. Easy going compared to the sway of the longboat, eh? Alright, raise up to your shoulder like this and don't think about it too much yet."

He helps guide the sailor's arm to show the proper motion. "You'll bring it over this way, but don't think about it. Just have your arm follow your eye just like you're stabbing him up close. No other way to do it than on instinct. Alright then, look quick and make it count next time he passes."

"Lem! Quick and drop some chum to drop in the water in case he misses, eh? Just a little though. Let's keep him interested here but not fat and happy enough to leave..." (OOC: If this is the wrong thing to do, and I would know that, please disregard...)

Vemuz also stands ready, watching to follow up with his own harpoon.

(OOC: Congrats on the new job, Bob. Don't worry about apologizing - whatever pace you want to post at is no problem.)