The Shamefaced Umbrellafish
Once again, my fearless mate and I head out into the rough and unwelcoming weather, knowing we may never return but hoping, just the same, for enough of a catch to see us through the night.
As our previous efforts had proven fruitless, and as our first venture was met with nothing but inhospitable environs, we decided to move to more verdant grounds were I was informed the game had been more plentiful in the past.
The sea was generous this day, me lovelies. We had not been there half-of-an-hour when, distracted by merry talk and gay banter, my own dear friend did hastily draw my attention toward my own dear rod which, laden as it seemed to be with promise of quarry, was a-bendin' and a-shakin' like to pull itself free from its moorings. Had he not made the happenings known to me when he did, I don't dare think on what may have become of us that day.
However, our wits were about us, and our minds sharp and quick, and after a struggle which can only be remembered as epic beyond believin', we had ourselves our first catch.
The creature had ben hooked not through the mouth, as if t'were attempting to gnaw on the victuals affixed to the line, but rather the tail of the beast, which must have, by chance, hooked itself as it was attemptin' to swim by. I don't know what God you pray to, best beloved, but somethin' was out there that day, something helped us ground what was perhaps the greatest and single most gratifying catch we'd ever experienced.
Though the game was fair, and though our fever was high for the fishin', the sea was awash with another gaggle of the sea's denizens. Soon, my worry that we might accidentally hook one of these monstrosities and be forced to reel it in, face to face, gave me pause.
We began to look for other means of girding our larders for the long journey home. My mate, apt fellow that he is, quickly discovered a new quarry, and one that was as likely as those hidden beneath the brine.
Crouching there, feelin' out his intended capture, he made ready for a chance at furthering the day's glory. Whip quick, he leaped up from his seclusion and lunged, full force, at the unsuspecting prey.
Alas, today was not be our time to conquer both the creatures of the deep and the avians of the sky. The earlier success of our day, however, lightened our hearts, as we set sail once again for our port of call... home. The journey was long, a perilous quest, and along the way, many a wonder did we see.
"Ahoy!" We hailed, and "Ahoy!" again, to no reply from the helmsman of this vessel. As we drew nearer the craft, we continued our attempts at communication, but to no avail. Finally, as we drew up alongside him, we took one final look, if nothing else to see if we could give quarter to a soul lost or injured, as we ourselves would no doubt hope some fellow seadog would accomodate us. Nothing could have prepared us for the sight which awaited us.
Silently, we turned forward, and set loose full sail, leaving the horrifying vision behind us, fading into the dank fog and our haunted memory. As we neared our home port, is occured to me that a shipping date was upon us, and that we'd not have time enough to visit home and return along the same route to complete our business. I entrusted my mate to return the cargo, and the catch, to the home port, while leaving me along the way to complete our transaction. I'd catch a frigate bound north and be home 'fore our next run.
While dropping me ashore, we moored in a dock normally kept open for those less fortunate than ourselves, God love their poor, tortured souls.
This is not conduct I'd like to see associated with the Old Salts, nor is the gesture my best mate appears to be adopting.
And yet, sometimes, these are the prices you must be prepared to pay, for a life spent well in the arms of the sea.
3/16/2006
Caught: Possible Shovelnose Guitarfish - 1. Pigeons - 0.
Days Since Last Trip: 3
Days Until the Next: 3
People Absent from the Latter: Me.
Our cast grows, next update.
As our previous efforts had proven fruitless, and as our first venture was met with nothing but inhospitable environs, we decided to move to more verdant grounds were I was informed the game had been more plentiful in the past.
The sea was generous this day, me lovelies. We had not been there half-of-an-hour when, distracted by merry talk and gay banter, my own dear friend did hastily draw my attention toward my own dear rod which, laden as it seemed to be with promise of quarry, was a-bendin' and a-shakin' like to pull itself free from its moorings. Had he not made the happenings known to me when he did, I don't dare think on what may have become of us that day.
However, our wits were about us, and our minds sharp and quick, and after a struggle which can only be remembered as epic beyond believin', we had ourselves our first catch.
The creature had ben hooked not through the mouth, as if t'were attempting to gnaw on the victuals affixed to the line, but rather the tail of the beast, which must have, by chance, hooked itself as it was attemptin' to swim by. I don't know what God you pray to, best beloved, but somethin' was out there that day, something helped us ground what was perhaps the greatest and single most gratifying catch we'd ever experienced.
Though the game was fair, and though our fever was high for the fishin', the sea was awash with another gaggle of the sea's denizens. Soon, my worry that we might accidentally hook one of these monstrosities and be forced to reel it in, face to face, gave me pause.
We began to look for other means of girding our larders for the long journey home. My mate, apt fellow that he is, quickly discovered a new quarry, and one that was as likely as those hidden beneath the brine.
Crouching there, feelin' out his intended capture, he made ready for a chance at furthering the day's glory. Whip quick, he leaped up from his seclusion and lunged, full force, at the unsuspecting prey.
Alas, today was not be our time to conquer both the creatures of the deep and the avians of the sky. The earlier success of our day, however, lightened our hearts, as we set sail once again for our port of call... home. The journey was long, a perilous quest, and along the way, many a wonder did we see.
"Ahoy!" We hailed, and "Ahoy!" again, to no reply from the helmsman of this vessel. As we drew nearer the craft, we continued our attempts at communication, but to no avail. Finally, as we drew up alongside him, we took one final look, if nothing else to see if we could give quarter to a soul lost or injured, as we ourselves would no doubt hope some fellow seadog would accomodate us. Nothing could have prepared us for the sight which awaited us.
Silently, we turned forward, and set loose full sail, leaving the horrifying vision behind us, fading into the dank fog and our haunted memory. As we neared our home port, is occured to me that a shipping date was upon us, and that we'd not have time enough to visit home and return along the same route to complete our business. I entrusted my mate to return the cargo, and the catch, to the home port, while leaving me along the way to complete our transaction. I'd catch a frigate bound north and be home 'fore our next run.
While dropping me ashore, we moored in a dock normally kept open for those less fortunate than ourselves, God love their poor, tortured souls.
This is not conduct I'd like to see associated with the Old Salts, nor is the gesture my best mate appears to be adopting.
And yet, sometimes, these are the prices you must be prepared to pay, for a life spent well in the arms of the sea.
3/16/2006
Caught: Possible Shovelnose Guitarfish - 1. Pigeons - 0.
Days Since Last Trip: 3
Days Until the Next: 3
People Absent from the Latter: Me.
Our cast grows, next update.
posted by DeadLanguage | 3:07 AM
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