'GANS AT SEA

by Lucille D'ecoupage

Lt Tarbin navigated the crowded passageway to the galley. Seething anger swelled his brain. My god, what have I done, he thought as the whole of the impending voyage crashed upon him.

Caudal was playing cards. He saw Tarbin approach and stubbed out his pipe and collected the few shillings that lay on the barrel in front of him. As he stood, he placed his cards face down then turned and donned his coat. There was no other reason for Tarbin to be there. It meant there was something that needed to be doneand within moments he was at the Captain's door.

Farthing held up a hand before he could salute, "Stand easy Lieutenant, I am sure we are out of view of the admiralty." Farthing was not in favour of stiff militaristic doctrine on sea voyages. Given the close quarters they would be in for the nest few months, perhaps years, he preferred to foster a sense of family and discipline maintained by mutual respect.

This utopian atmosphere that Farthing envisioned was of course unattainable. It's core structure, though laudable, was based upon hypocrisy. Equal in duty, ability and respect; unequal in position, responsibility and quarters. In such a confined society, no one duty or action was isolated from any of the others. Indeed the very nature of sail made it so. Still, an hierarchy remained lest democracy break out.

With Caudal seated at the table and Tarbin hovering impatiently outside, the Doctor broke off a piece of the Stilton and handed it around for the others to do the same. He then announced that he had just finished reading an article in a sea farer's journal and was invited by Farthing to repeat it as they dined. The Doctor brushed some bread crumbs off of his lap and reached over and picked up the thin, printed pamphlet.

"If you insist... Ahem, the travelers speed with hasty steps away and leave their social dwelling far behind. Where plenty reigned with more than regal sway and soothed the sorrows of the anxious mind. The crew marched cheerily o'er the barren hills, laughing at worn out jests with toilsome glee. Nor e'er reflected they on any furture ills, so their loved plenty they could see..." He continued to read on in silence, leaving the other two momentarily suspended.

"Is that all?" asked Farthing.

"Hm?" said the Doctor.

"Is there any more?"

"Yes, yes there is..." They waited a moment or two longer until it became obvious that the Docter was lost in thought. Farthing turned his attention to the young Leiutenant.

"Enoch, I would like to go over our list of stores one more time. We may be held over in the channel longer than we anticipated and is often the case, what is drawn upon paper rarely is true to the situation."

It took a moment for Caudal to respond, as he was slow to shift his attention from the Doctor - absorbed still by the poem. "Among neccesary items such as salt and preserved supplies," he began, "we have at our disposal eighty tonnes of flour with and without yeast, fifty tonnes of salted meat and four-hundred cases of tinned meat and vegetables at one pound per..."

"What delightful imagery." Dickinson finally looked up, surprised to see that the other two had moved on.

"Yes. Thank you Thomas for sharing it with us." Farthing nodded to Caudal for him to continue.