19 September 2011

we sails today!

meyarrr, me hearties! 'tis meself, meow fang,

what greets ye all this day aboard the good ship cat o'nine tails as we meet to form a mighty Flotilla an' sail to high adventure! we does this, as allus, inna names of all those furriends what haff gone befur us t'th'Bridge in this past year, an' we deddycates this moment o' silence to their mem'ries as we names them in our hearts!!
::seabirds call, wind snaps canvas, spars creak, an' waves slosh against the hull::

an' now, if all ye present will do me the kindness o'meetin' wif me in me cabin there to sign the articals as do all good gentlecats o'th'sea, an' please t'furget not to sign 'round the edges o'th'document, that its verity be ne'er questioned, then shall we share a toast o'rumfustian or bumboo or toona joose to our enterprise an' be under way in no time atall. 

inna meantimes, all ye lubbers what be sailin' along of us not as piratecats but as meer turisters an' mayhap haf not been t'sea befur may study the drawin' at left an' get the plan o'the ship fastened in minds, that ye be not losted to us at a critical moment. an' we bid ye not to confuse the "poop deck" wif th' "head", which be the sand-filled orlop deck!

::the lubbers study intently. one by one, the signers regain the deck with varying degrees of cheer, depending on how earnest their toasts were. the emerging crew assume their posts, and the visiting captains depart for their own ships. meow fang speaks::

meYARRRR! ::draws in a hearty breath:: ah, how i loves me th'scent o' catnip inna mornin'!! furriends, we be sailin' t'the north--a far cry from the warm carib an' south sea waters o'the past voyages. in those days, we were sailin' away from our trubbles; this year, i believes we needs t'occupy oursel's in honest treasure huntin' as a way o'healin'. (besides, the treasury o'the Piratecats Confederation be a trifle short o'th' ready; an' as gentlemen seacats, ye are well acquainted wif the phrase, "if there be no prey, there be no pay".) we haf a true-drawn map o' Oak Island,

where that blaggard Cap'n Bushbeard be rumored to haf interred a mighty treasure, so we bids ye buckle yer swashes an' shake out yer winter fur--t'will be a chilly cruise, aye, but t'will bring us riches an' honor! i swear it by th'good Saint Robert o'Middleton!!

we knows that efurry ship do face the perils o'th'sea. there be krakens seizin' vessels an' merdogs howlin' sweetly-like to lure unsuspectin' ships t'their doom.

be ye unconcerned that we shall meet wif these trubbles--i haf been reliably informed by our cook that due to th'fightin' skills of our doughty crew,  these partikular perils be no more than ways t'supplement our larder--

which in these days o'straitened funds consists of salmagundi, hammm, cackle fruit, hardtack, hammmm, an' toona joose. so let's make way!!!!!!!!

::the assembled Flotilla moves stately up the coast. time passes, and a lookout spies the island.::
land ho, cap'n.

aye? where away?

it be two points off the starboard bow, sir!

helmsman, d'ye haf an eye on't? make for it!

aye, cap'n! i does, an' i will!

nitro--you an' igmu be signalin' t'th'Flotilla--we rondyvoos in a turn o'the glass! ::two tails begin to wag complex figures from the fo'c'sl deck, informing the Flotilla's ships of meow fang's command. ship's boats begin to make their way to shore and soon a vast company is assembled. the order to commence digging is given, and sand flies everywhere.::

yarrr, bejaybers, lads! be ye not so unhandy in yer kickin' sand abaft--i be standin' here, ye brainless picaroons! ::muffled cries of "aye, cap'n" are heard, followed by vigorous showers of sand:: arrr. some o'these swabs will kiss the gunner's daughter afore this all be done! ::meow fang retires to the shade of a nearby tree, naps, and arises after a bit to play the cello; a report of progress is brought to him by a draggle-tailed tabby::

errr, cap'n?


we be findin' some fine scratchin' posts here below--t'was oak we shredded fur a goodly while. then there were a bit of dampenin' to our paws, an' it turned a bit mucky, but we persevered an' haf now struck some mighty fine shredded fibers what seem to haf already been shrod to their limit! the second gang o' diggers be now below.

all's well, then, an' progress abides, eh, tabman?

aye, sir.

go rest ye inna shade, or make off t'the races; some of the younger folk haf found feral hawgs an' organized some ennertainments. an' the both winners AND losers o'the race, bigod, will be the star guests at our evenin' meal!! MOL!!
::after a while, another somewhat damp kitty approaches, and announces::

ahoy, cap'n--we haf just gone swimmin' wiffin ye pit wherein water gushed like (shudder) bafftime, an' all of our shift haf escaped ol' jonesy but narrowly, if ol' jonesy can be said to inhabit a hole inna ground, yet it seems as it might be his territory as the swimmin' water be tastin' of sal...

YARRRRRR! belay yer jib-jab an' speak straight er i'll turn The Slice on ye!

aye, cap'n--what i means to say is, we of the second crew brought drillin' truck wif us to see how much further down we might be diggin', as all the diggers were consarned that we might be wetted beyond a cat's tolerance if we were to dig sufficient t'win through to the prize, don'tcha see, wifout...

DAMME! can ye not talk straight? are ye a sea-lawyer in disguise? can NOcat deliver this clobber-head of his burthen?

::the discredited cat backs up into the brush and disappears. from the same brush, a small tortie lass edges forward and says::

aye, cap'n, by yer leave--he means the drill seems to go downward furefurr, an' we be pullin' up bits an' pieces o'trash, but ne'er a bit o'kibble nor gold. howefur, i did notice that some twenty feets above where we haf dug to, there be a small dent inna wall that seems a wee bit different in composition from the surroundin' walls. i proposes we digs side-wise there, an' sees what we shall see.

although thou be but a small kit yet, i believe ye may be in possession of the largest brain onna second shift. ye must eat an uncommon lot o'fish, that bein' brain food. go ye an' do as ye will, an' report back to me so soon as ye may.

aye, cap'n fang; i shall see it done!

::some little while passes, and the tortie kit returns::

cap'n? the engineerin' lads haf hauled up many a sturdy box. would ye honor us wif yer presence an' tend to the openin' of them?

indeed, li'l missy, that i will do with a right good will!

::ka-crunch! one swift wrench of meow fang's paw hauls open the first box, and he exclaims::

oh, by great poseidon's hairy left n ... er, um ... pinkytoe--it be gold!!! true an' pure by the look o'it. arrrrr! we haf wrested back some o'that which were filched contumely from us ofur the years! quartermastercat! present yerself an' take these chests to our countin' room, an' commence to figgerin' up the shares! i doubt not that this be the treasure which many haf sought an' failed t'find, even to the loss of their lives. it took many an' many a wily, wicked scheme to separate us hard-workin' folk from't, and but a small kitty's wisdom to unearth it again to our benefit--i would petition the ship's company that she be awarded an extra share fur her savvy! where be the lass? i would haf her sit wif me at the feast tonight!!

::no one sees the tortie in the immediate area. runners are dispersed to find her. time passes. the torches are lit, the tables are laden, the strains of "fifteen cats on a dead man's chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of toona joose" are heard at the fringes of the dining area. meow fang's voice is heard over the music and general uproar::

 well? well? where be the lass? i haf bid ye request her presence!


cease yer mutterin', i say!! where hath she gone?

::xing the slice slinks forth and says::

good cap'n, sir, i haf sent out missives to each an' all masters o'th'Flotilla. each haf returned th' information that there were no wee tortie aboard their vessels, nor on their rolls as crew or turist. no one onna second diggin' shift recalls that there were any cat o'that description amongst 'em. they all agree that they sorta just all decided to go back up to that spot an' dig. no one recalls who first voiced the idea, it seemed to be a common accord. 'tis seemin' like a mystery, my cap'n.

aye, xing, that it seems. *sigh* a winsom lass she were, too. shall we see her again? i wonders.