16^th day of July. Year of Our Lord 2010

In Port:- In-Spiered Stairway

Weather:- Fair Precipitation Within Sight

Wind:- SSW 5 -6

 

With the wind whipping across Lyme Bay and the surf rolling over Pole Sands the crew of the Malarkey huddled for shelter behind a hastily erected canvas windbreak prior to participating in this eagerly awaited ceremony. The boys had been gathered to give some gravitas to what was basically the opening of a metal fabrication placed to ease access to a lofty vantage point. Especially useful to those with a finely turned ankle! Once up aloft the occupants keep a weather eye on that section of coast visible through a spyglass, and if required, report to the brave lifeboat crews the whereabouts of persons in difficulty.

 

To bring even greater kudos to the event a local girl who has risen to great prominence in the land was asked to come and cut the ceremonial ribbon. After speeches by the dignitaries and a burst of enthusiasm from the crew of the Malarkey, said ribbon was cut and the aforementioned lady demurely mounted the stairway. In her absence, and despite the wind, the gathered throng were treated once again to what the Malarkey has to offer. This must’ve rubbed off well on our guest as she even deigned to be attended to by Mr Cleavage who always seizes any opportunity to grapple with the situation.

 

Gifts were exchanged and presentations made with promises to keep the newly formed acquaintance alive and moreover to spread the word throughout the fair county of Devon. Indeed a couple of days later the strains of the crew could be heard wafting on the breeze over the length & breadth of the shire.

13^th day of July. Year of Our Lord 2010

In Port:- Bicton Palace

Weather:- Autumnal

Wind:- Salty

 

Once again the worthies of Exmouth turned out in their droves to support the landlady of this fine establishment in raising funds for the good doctors of the land to further their work in finding a cure for one of the scourges of our time.

 

Late comers to the Inn found the public area packed to the gunwales as the crew of the Malarkey cavorted on tables & benches, more the better to view the assembled throng.

 

Any form of organisation was soon cast to the wind with unexpected ditties being thrust to the fore and the first mate’s witticisms being snatched by the coxswain. It is unlikely that the onlookers realised to what extent the changes had been wrung as they were to pre-occupied in searching for loose change to throw into the bucket, thus preventing Tug having a meaningful conversation at length with them later in the street.

 

Over 140 guineas were given over the evening to be put with monies collected at other events during the week organised by our doughty landlady. Many thanks Ali for allowing the mis-use of your premises over these 7 days.

10^th day of July. Year of Our Lord 2010

On Voyage:- Weymouth Town

Weather:- Fair

Wind:-  SSW 6

 

With a major competitive sailing event looming not far over the horizon the lads of the Malarkey were keen to show those in charge what their vessel might do if challenged. The main question was how to get noticed and included in the herculean travails that are to come.

 

A bit of raucousness in the centre of town seemed to be a good idea so the crew, after dumping their odorous gear at several bawdy houses located a fair step from their target, rallied within much Hope outside a triumvirate of ale houses.

 

A sizeable crowd had already gathered, ostensibly to sample the fruits of the sea as prepared by cooks even more famous than Sam Minella, and were waiting in barely concealed anticipation for whatever might be thrown at them by the organisers. Unfortunately some of the throwings were what might be called “an acquired taste”. This did mean that when our beloved crew stepped forth the onlookers faces became a picture of awestruck beauty and attention. With the Malarkey’s mainsail full and drawing and in danger of pulling the elevated edifice across the piazza they were then treated to a sublime exhibition of close harmony sweating and grunting. So prestigious was the occasion that several of the crew members actually repaired to the chandlers to renew their tired Haute-Couture. And for a grand finale a sprightly “Eliza” was selected by Mr Cleavage to aid him in his penultimate cavorting. However the aforementioned Eliza refused point blank to “Sat on his knee” and was not to be danced around any district of New York whatsoever.

 

And so the Malarkey moved on to its next berth, hard alongside the “competitive seamanship quay”. The local participants of the afternoon’s activities had gathered to feast and make merry after a hard time afloat in Weymouth Bay. In fact they were feasting so furiously that our beloved crew were in danger of having little or no repast to sustain them through the long night. But after a strong showing on the first watch and a trip to the stores all was well gastronomically speaking. Ale was plied and songs were sung and the crowd grew in size and appreciation as the drizzle fell from a leaden sky. Other crews were more fortunate it was later learned as they were able to ply their trade under cover. But this did not dampen the spirits of our indomitable crew especially as this evening’s “Eliza” was more than willing to get bounced on knees and to be danced anywhere in the world.

 

So, in two years hence, will the crew return to hospitable Weymouth? We can only wait, see and improve.

 

 

11^th day of July. Year of Our Lord 2010

On Voyage:- Hope Square Weymouth

Weather:- Fair

Wind:- From Olympus

 

After several of the crew had staggered in late from varied attempts at prolonging the nights entertainments, fast was broken all across town. Luckily for the crew the first mate had given them the morning to themselves all the better to appear bright eyed that afternoon.

 

Reports are sketchy about what actually occurred in Hope Square from four bells in the middle watch, but confidence is high in finding the missing pages from that days log.

 

4^th day of July. Year of Our Lord 2010

Up Another Creek:- Lympstone Quay

Weather:- Heavy Cloud

Wind:- Too Much To Handle

 

As the recently held colonies celebrated their independence from the Crown a rival event got underway in the pretty estuary-side port of Lympstone. This was more a celebration of the brewer’s art rather than an attempt to reduce the turkey & pumpkin stocks of the North American continent.

 

The grounds of the famous Swan Inn were filled to under-flowing as the wind headed towards becoming a baby storm intent on wreaking havoc with the Malarkey mainsail as set by Mr Erra in error. But once festivities had got underway the worthies of Exmouth & Lympstone had swelled the multitude to a highway congesting throng. Even owners of horseless carriages were seen to stop and gawp at the spectacle.

 

The varied ales, as dispensed by the landlord and his helpers, soon began to run low which was probably just as well from an entertainment perspective. Notwithstanding, Betty Stoggs reared her beauteous head once again much to the relief of Mr Cleavage. This enabled him to again read his “poetry” to the masses, even enticing them to join in on the repetitive bits. Methinks Mr Skinner must’ve bunged a few gold florins his way when we was last down Falmouth.

 

As the wind dropped and the capstan fumbled in its traditional manner the crew swayed along with the crowd to refrains old & old, culminating in a show stopping rendition by Tug the Cox of his Rosy Bella. Unfortunately, three of the villagers had not been warned about the imminent arrival of the Malarkey’s crew and they had not made alternative arrangements for the afternoon. At least they were able to report back to their fellow villagers about that never to be remembered afternoon.

20^th day of May. Year of Our Lord 2010

Up Creek:- Headwater River Clyst

Weather:- Lowering Cloud

Wind:- NNW 2

 

After a tricky feat of navigation to the upper reaches of the River Clyst, Sirius Erra being conspicuous by his lack of assistance, the crew of the Malarkey disembarked alongside an arena dedicated to the display of all things agricultural. The crew should fit in well in this environment.

 

Their presence was required by a mighty organisation responsible for the dissemination of interesting facts and anecdotes amongst the local populace. This to be achieved by the clever use of semaphore signals provided by mobile boxes with glass eyes. The monstrous incarnations of the devil however rely on some electro-trickery, that lack of which causes them to blanche and cease their activities.

 

Indeed, after many hours of careful positioning and warbling and at the crucial moment the sustenance required was brutally cut off. So, unbeknown to the crew, the identity of those that man the Malarkey was again withheld from the population at large.

 

Mutterings of sabotage were heard, once the news had been broken, and dark glances cast in the general direction of the Amis du Pecheurs, now known to be hiding along the North Cornish coast.

 

Tug the Cox found the evening’s only silver lining, namely the vast array of local beers produced & displayed by the county’s finest in their welcoming marquee.

 

Hopefully the morrow will provide a wider exposure, if that is really to be desired!

1^st day of May. Year of Our Lord 2010

At Sea:- Upton Upon Severn

Weather:- Persistently Precipitating

Wind:- N 8

 

At two bells in the Forenoon Watch the schizophrenic Malarkey set out from port destined for the Welsh Marches. It really was a ship of two halves. After beating all morning against a freshening northerly breeze, anchor was dropped close the busy port of Bristol. In fact “Bristols” was on the minds of many of the crew as they strengthened themselves for the second half of the voyage at a quayside chocolate house.

 

Leaving such thoughts behind the convoy struck out once again for the banks of the River Severn. As eight bells sounded the fair riverside port of Upton hove into view. But there was literally no room at the inn. Hoards of strangely dressed figures besported themselves on the streets, performing strange rites often with very real risk to limbs & digits. The hoards were particularly dense outside the Kings Head with five different dances being performed to five different tunes all at the same time.

 

With the stores safely stowed and centre stage safely commandeered the scene was left for the other crews of different vessels to trip over and silently curse.

 

After a quick nibble by the river, a scene not unlike those depicted by the French impressionists, the crew repaired back to the deck so recently cluttered. Full report and voice were given as requested by the shore masters and were received well by what can only be described as a smattering. The smattering grew slowly and come the finale of the matinee a veritable throng had gathered chiefly to keep out of the sun.

 

Then back on to the streets to procure gifts for those left in far off Exmouth and to soak up the local atmosphere. Soak is another word we’ll come across later and not in association with “Old” or “Wayne The Anchor”.

 

Following the aroma of roasting hog, and collecting/waking Wayne en-route, several batches of pig en-croute were consumed before diving for cover into the welcoming embrace of a riverside tavern. Bawdy singing then ensued and a mightily fine hour passed in the company of local worthies and other ship’s crews. The hour was in fact so fine that several onlookers felt moved to close their eyes the more to enjoy the sweet refrain.

 

Then back to the tented arena as the clouds lowered and the sky darkened. As the streets deserted the waters fell from on high in almost biblical manner. Those poor souls forced to spend the evening under sailcloth would wake to find the waters of the world lapping at their toes. They would probably find a severe case of pneumonia as well.

 

The smattering of earlier in the day had evolved to a full blown sparsity but proceedings went ahead nevertheless. As ever these things take time to start and protagonists tend to play their part to the full. But even the numerately challenged should have been able to spot that three time three quarters does not a double make.

 

Unfortunately the quartermaster saw fit to curtail the lads’ most exuberant exuberances as the build up to the finale neared. Gear was gathered and a rapid beeline made back to the Malarkey. However those that endured the storm and found their way back to town passed favourable comment on what they had just seen.

 

Once all was safely stowed in the hold the voyage back to the Exe passed off uneventfully, taking into account the deluge and a serious navigational mistake by the helm of the front half of the Malarkey. Port was fetched long after loved ones had taken to their beds and the ragged edges of the storm had blow away into the south.

7th day of April. Year of Our Lord 2010

Home Port:-Exmouth

Weather:- Frigid

Wind:- N -3.

 

Rumour has it that a young wench from Exmouth is currently serving in His Majesty’s Navy on the very flag ship no less. Miss Perriam started off her career carrying charges from the magazine to the guns and has not looked back since. What will come of it time will tell, young ladies will end up running these ships one day if a weather eye isn’t kept on their activities. However the proud crew of the Malarkey holds no truck with ancient prejudices and salute her sterling work. To this end they all gathered outside an illustrious establishment, created in young Nancy’s memory, to celebrate the arrival of fine nautical ales to the shores of East Devon.

 

Unfortunately the news had not spread that far, or conversely the local worthies had stuck their noses out the window to be immediately followed by time honoured phrases such as, “ I be bug**** if I be standin around freezing me wurzels off listenin to that rowdy bunch!”.

 

Safe to say the only attendees to the art of harmonised feline throat restricting, were stalwarts who had experienced the same thing many times affore.

 

Luckily the head honchette of said ale house invited our crew within, which whilst briefly enlarging her coffers, lead to a mass exodus of clientele followed by a mass influx of devotees of the art of bladder kicking.

 

But, rising above all odds, and the call of the Bishop of Truro, entertainment was metered out to the mass(es) whether they liked it or no. The only saving grace for those on the safe side of the deck, being the lack of humorous asides which normally accompany these revels. They were down in Cornwall being bounced of the aforementioned Bishop.

 

For completeness of the log it can be stated that the bladder kickers from our industrial heartland will not again be required to perform against their adversaries from the continent.

 

Also for completeness, the master at arms needs to sort out the starboard watch as nowt could be heard from that side of the deck.

 

And, in passing, Lazy Jane is well worth travelling many miles to experience.

All At Sea:- Regil, Abeam Nempnett Thrubwell

Weather:- Kindly

Wind:- SW 1 1/2.

 

After catching the very early afternoon tide, the Malarkey set sail NNE for the vast uncharted reaches of the Somerset Levels. Once them levels had been crossed and various vagabonds retrieved from the clutches of Stevenson’s famous moving kettle, the crew found thereselves in a veritable lost world. So lost in fact that some havens had no resting places for the weary traveller. So lost that Mister Erra had to rely on the good ministrations of mermaids found along the route.

 

However, once port hove into view and the anchor safely dropped, the fortunes of our brave “lads” improved mightily. Exploration soon discovered, amid the halls of King Neptune, a most fabulous cave bedecked in all things pelagic. Even Mr D Jones would have felt at home amongst this splendour.

 

Quickly the crew straightened the Malarkey Bristol Fashion, and, under the guidance of Neptune himself, repaired to the site of his lost Crown! Many entertainments were the enjoyed with Mister Cleavage being most adept at knocking over his nine pints/pins!!

 

But as the mists drew in Regil took on a Brigadoon like quality, causing our wayward wanderer’s to wander waywardly down the wrong way. Only the stern self control of Sam Minella brought the course back under control and enabled the misgivings of Mister Erra to be assuaged.

 

And then to the festivities!

 

As the stream of fabulous undersea creatures entering the cave became a torrent, good voice was given to the throng. Mermaids were awed, Captains captivated, Cardboard Boats caressed, Glitterati gobsmacked and Eliza booked for future commitments. Then, amid the smoke of culinary disasters a banquet took shape. Even the ruffians of the crew, namely our good bosun who is not used to fine dining or so he tells us, were allowed to sample the delights provided. (The Anchorman chiefly delighting in a barrel o’ Butcombe Bitter). Unfortunately our lookout, not being used to the close company on deck or the salty aroma arising from same, was obliged to partake of a frugal meal. Luckily the frugals were of the finest quality.

 

Once Neptune’s guests had been sated they were the then treated to a cacophony of nautical excesses of the most melodious nature. Even Mister Cleavage's most recent comments were treated with an altogether unfamiliar burst of approval and delight. After three years voyaging with the same wry witticisms it is always refreshing to meet those who have been spared the torture of his keen insight!

 

And the finale of all finale’s. As Eliza Lee bounced on to stage, bounced on Seymour’s knee and bounced off home again, the crowd erupted in an outburst of appreciation and disbelief, and significantly failed to throw flowers, gold coin or anything else.

5^th day of March. Year of Our Lord 2010

In Port:- Lympstone

Weather:- Fair

Wind:- L & V.

 

After an exciting passage up the Exe, soon to be the title of a new literary masterpiece, the Malarkey dropped anchor less than a cable from the harbour wall of Ye Olde Lympstone Village. A great gathering had been promised by Wayne, the Anchorman, which to everyone’s surprise actually took shape within the halls carefully constructed alongside the local church.

 

Raised above the masses and fairly surrounded by same, the crew gave voice amid discarded paraphernalia and chattels, telling tales of daring doo, recounting loves won and lost , of ships flying and foundering, of captains cruel and contemptuous, of shipmates brave and buxom and humour lengthy and laughable. In fact one of the more prominent guests requested with gusto that the last in the list be de-listed and the festivities continue in their absence.

 

Not to be dissuaded, Mister Cleavage continued apace until a natural break in the weather allowed the crew to take breath over a quart or two.

 

Now within spitting distance of the local worthies the air was filled with the most melodious outpourings despite Old Roger doing his best to ruin the evening. Seymour then surprised all and sundry by selecting a non-local visiting-type lady to grapple with as he delivered his long awaited finale.

 

A fine evening and no doubt, with the lads retiring in the happy knowledge that the roof under which they had served, even for such a short a time as this, is once again assured of continued service, as a roof!

23rd day of February. Year of Our Lord 2010

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Ruff

Wind:- Excessive

 

This evening’s ship’s briefing held a surprise for those with short term memory loss. After a couple of struts around the decks holding fictitious onions and assuming an interested crowd be gathered, the lads were let off early and ordered to repair across the road to an adjacent alehouse.

 

Luckily the locals knew what was afoot and had deserted the establishment leaving it free for the crew to realise that it was in fact three years ago to the moment that the call had gone out for sailors of like mind to “Come along for a quick ale and see how it goes”.

 

Of that original gathering some had moved to new postings on different ships and a few to sail oceans rolling over and above this world. New faces had swollen the ranks to leave what we see today, “The Ansomest set of angels ever to sing the seven seas.”

 

And sing they did, till the landlady and her daughter brought to their attention the licensing laws and the vast platters groaning under the weight of foods from the orient and Cornwall.

 

Thus sated, stuffed and still surprised the crew retired with gratitude, chief gratification being the survival of three years of nearly going afloat and getting their hands dirty and the fact that this evening produced no Eliza Lee for Mister Cleavage to have “All on my knee”!

22nd day of January. Year of Our Lord 2010

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Moderate

Wind:- SW 5.

 

It was with dismay that the crew received tidings of the tremendous shaking of the Earth which had afflicted their brothers on the north coast of Haiti. Hearts went out to those stricken by the quake and to the losses suffered by the inhabitants of Port-au-Prince.

But what to do, how to help?

It was Messrs Tug & Cleavage who had a notion to gather all good fellows with a smattering of musical talent to an evening dedicated to providing succour to those most in need.

With amazing alacrity our Coxswain gathered the musical cream of Devon together and staged an evening of the best entertainment these shores can provide. Entry to the arena elicited many doubloons from those wishing to attend and a lottery game of chance added more gold to the coffers. A final auction of goods and chattels raised the total gathered for the evening to “4381 guineas”. This was sent overseas post haste by our Christian Aid friends who were helping distribute the monies raised to those in most need.

 

21st day of December. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Fair To B****** Cold

Wind:- SE 3. 

 

The careening continues apace although the weather be bitterly cold. Them navy lads’d better watch their brass monkeys else the balls’ll be rolling all over the place. Anyway, the crew, being at a loose end, made themselves available for a hearty round of Yuletide singing on the slippery quaysides of Exmouth Docks. Lantern light was provided by Messrs Dixon & Dixon, purveyors of all things nautical and order maintained by the sharp tongue & wit of Mister Cleavage.  The only break with tradition was the surprising attendance of the crew at one of the new chocolate houses after the event, rather than the lads repairing back to the dockside alehouse. Davey Jones’ll be turning in his grave.

19^th day of December. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Poor

Wind:- NNW 7. 

 

If the Bishop had thought yester-eve sublime then what followed the very next day should, in print, be adjective free!

It has recently come to light that young master Webb Ellis has disgraced himself and his school by picking up the bladder during a game of “Foot the Ball”. He then ran with it evidently intending to gain some advantage over his opponents. Behaviour of this kind is only too prevalent in the youth of today and will surely lead to the demise of society as we know it.

And so it proved this very eve as the crew came out second best in a contest of voice with “Future Players” of what Master Ellis had set in train.

18th day of December. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- City Of Exeter

Weather:- Utopian

Wind:- NNE 0. 

 

It might be said that the singing of the crew of the Malarkey can be likened to, “The Heavenly Host who have pulled out all the stops for the celebrations leading up to the birth of our Lord”, or it might not. But the good burghers of the City of Exeter found enough angelic similarity to invite the lads to be let loose in the sacred grounds of the Cathedral Church of St Peter. Joining with nine hundred & eighty eight other souls, His Grace the Bishop allowed the motley bunch to meander up the chancel singing a sweet medley of some of the less raucous ballads for which they are notorious. Tears were seen glistening on cheeks and a collective sigh rose from the gathered masses once the doors had again been firmly shut.

The boys were dead proud to be part of the “Night of a Thousand Voices”.

7^th day of December. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Fair

Wind:- SW 3. 

 

The Malarkey now being in dry dock preparing for a good bottom scraping, or careening for those in the know, the entire crew repaired to the Grove Ale House to celebrate the fast approaching birthday of Our Lord.

 

But it was not to be a relaxing evening of untroubled carousing. Wayne, The Anchorman, had devised a fiendish questioning of those of the crew who were not yet in the scuppers. More attention to the lore of the sea and the ways of song masters would have stood the lads in better stead than their normal attention to the wiles of women folk. However, more by dead reckoning than skilful navigation, answers were forthcoming and prizes awarded.

 

Quill the boson had arranged a marvellous spread and the boards near groaned under the weight of fine foods and wines. A team of provenders kept all supplied with vittles and all anticipating what the next surprise might be. A heartfelt thanks goes out from all the crew to those in the galley and to those in the tap room of that mighty enterprise.

 

Also thanks to Mrs Legoff, who had raided her wine cellars to provide the lads & lasses of the Malarkey with Christmas cheer.

 

Fair ‘twas a night to remember!

14^th day of November. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Fair

Wind:- WSW 4 -5. 

 

After a storm ridden week the Malarkey put back in to Exmouth ready to collect devotees of the Shanty art in preparation for an evening voyage around Lyme Bay. With only 9 berths remaining she set sail in early evening hoping to return before slippers of glass turned back into various grocery items. So popular was the trip that a couple of colonists returned from Exmouth Western Australia to experience something of the voyage their forebears had had to endure. In fact the crowd were drawn from far and wide, chief of which being the metropolis of Leicester famed for its maritime connections.

 

Earlier that day, before the Blue Peter had been raised, a practice had been arranged in order that the crew did not lose their footings. This was too much for the Anchorman who managed to trip over an uncluttered deck almost ending up in the scuppers.

 

A raucous evening then followed with Abner Clew out on his first voyage and Tug the Cox laid out with yellow fever down below. Nifty steering with the new ship’s wheel saw the Malarkey return to shore on time allowing the crew to avail themselves of the services of those in the Bicton before being turned out into the streets. All passengers returned accounted for and seemed to have gained from the experience.

 

The crew of the Malarkey would like to send a signal of sincere thanks to Messrs Blackmore & Blackmore for providing excellent vittles throughout the day. May their edifice continue to improve and be supported by the populace of this lively port.

27th day of October. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Exmouth

Weather:- Fair

Wind:- S 6.

 

And so to a new home.

 

With various changes afoot in the town of Exmouth a new venue was needed for the crew to gather and make good songs old & new.

 

With great generosity and greater foolhardiness the captain of the Grove Ale House, located but a seagull’s squawk from the ocean strand, agreed to allow the above motley gathering to take place every Tuesday evening. (Except for the 3^rd Tuesday in the Month. On those evenings the crew gather at a local boarding house on The Beacon to join others in the singing of folk songs.)

 

Secret meetings will be held initially but from about 21:30 the crew will gather in the public areas to sing their hearts out and entertain any lost souls ostensibly out for a quiet evening. All are welcome to attend and to sing along with your favourite ditties.

 

It was at one of these meetings that Bob, the cabin boy, revealed that he was featured in a series of 12 etchings designed to mark the passage of the year 2010, but why he needed to cuddle a Christmas tree in December he would not divulge. Suffice to say these etchings are on sale from the various worthies of Lympstone, with all gold being passed to local good causes.

11^th day of October. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Harwich

Weather:- Low cloud & light precipitation, visibility good occasionally poor.

Wind:- SW 3.

 

A grim sky greeted a sombre crew who tumbled from their hammocks somewhat later than sunrise.

 

The main discourse that morn was whether the weather be conducive to giving voice afloat, alongside pontoons masquerading as some type of safe haven for small sailing craft.

 

With an astute sense of timing, coffee was finished as the last of the drizzle blew away to the east revealing a still leaden sky but with the promise of a fair afternoon.

A slippery concourse lead down to the Tug Boat “Fenland” and an even slipperier gang plank gave the crew access to the cramped deck space. All navigated this minefield safely until Mr Albert Truss, late of the “Mastership” of several large galleons, came a cropper, severely damaging his lower limbs. If only he’d had more experience of smaller craft.

 

A crowd soon thronged the pontoon and were treated to a right royal awakening despite the inclemency of the weather. Incoming and outgoing boat’s crews also joined in the merriment making the whole affair a morning to remember.

 

Luncheon was taken in the shanty town of Dovercourt where another group of devotees to the furtherance of sailing techniques had laid out a superb spread which was thoroughly enjoyed by all comers. Unfortunately, “all comers”, included the notorious Tracey who was roughly dragged to the fore and forced to endure the attentions of Mister Cleavage. Songs were sung, tales told and promises of devotion made. Well, at least a promise to call in to Exmouth Docks when cruising the western approaches.

 

With bones thoroughly warmed and bellies thoroughly satisfied the crew near ran to their next & last tryst with Harwich. This was to be on the main quay of the Ha’penny Pier and with some trepidation the crew unfurled their banners. But fears were soon allayed as the crowds poured out of their boarding houses to join the gathering throng which included many of the other crews who had come ashore especially for this event.

 

And then back on board ship. The jolly boat was loaded with all goods, chattels & booty and the Malarkey with personnel. A notable exception being the Anchorman, who was off across the North Sea to terrorise the Dutch coast with bawdy songs & risqué anecdotes. But that tale this log does not tell.

 

The passage home was uneventful although beating down the channel against the prevailing wind and through a whole host of small craft, took a lot longer than had been estimated. But once the Fairway Buoy had been rounded the crew were not long kept from their loved ones and soft fluffy towels.

10^th day of October. Year of Our Lord 2009

In Port:- Harwich

Weather:- Sunny spells, good visibility.

Wind:- Variable 2

 

Fast was broken heartily this morning, with rumours of cold cuts and fancy breads being proven wrong, with the arrival of mountains of bacon and unexpected sausage from the galley.

 

Once the crew had been collected together by the bosun’s application of wit & sarcasm, plans were laid over coffee in that fine ale house “The Stingray”. The only plan of note therein, was drawn up by Mister Erra, outlining the detailed internal layout of “The Harwich Society for the Furtherance & Improvement of Sailing Techniques”. Our gear was later to be stowed there and the lads didn’t want to place it erroneously under the admiral’s hammock.

 

Runners were then sent to locate the smallest tavern in Harwich, The Globe Inn. Once ensconced therein the crew found that room was only left for the proverbial man & dog. However & notwithstanding, a jovial and enjoyable morning was had by all with the dog contributing a lap of the bar in our honour.

 

Trawling the deserted streets of Harwich netted only one catch of worth that noontide. A quiet backwater leads past the home of the notorious Tracey of Harwich who pounced on the unsuspecting crew and dragged them into her abode. Paintings were then made of the scene possibly for future extortionate behaviour. These are now on sale from Amazon traders in plain paper wrappers.

 

The afternoon watch proceeded slowly with the crew repairing to an edifice built to defend the realm against the worst ravages of Boney Napoleonpart. The garrison must have had rumour of our approach as every man jack had deserted their post. This left the fort manned by a purveyor of hot beverages and two likely “lads” giving voice to empty ramparts.

 

However, once the Exmouth Crew had finished applying the goose grease to ward off sun burn and other maladies, the inmates of various dungeons poured out of their cells to listen to tales of hardship, cruelty and love lost n found. Once six bells in the afternoon watch had sounded they all ran back to Her Majesty’s accommodation, which possibly held more attraction than what had just transpired.

 

Our gallant lads then repaired to the “Harwich Society for the Furtherance & Improvement of Sailing Techniques” buildings located on the seaward side of the peninsula from whence the Orwell flows in to the North Sea.

 

With the gear safely stowed the local street urchins were treated to a sample of the endeavours which were to follow later that eve. Eyebrows were raised and all tickets previously bought rapidly put back on the black market.

 

And thence to supper, where generous cuts of meat were served with fine wines and spirits by the proprietor, & his ever vigilant assistant, of the Bear eating house. Many shillings lighter and in need of strong coffee the crew made their unsteady way back to the coast.

 

In the dim lit halls of the HSftF&IoST, the festivities were already underway. Sailors from the margins of the North Sea were in fine voice to the general approval of the assembled company. Spirits were then dampened somewhat as tales of doom & gloom, depicting life on the not so sunny North Sea, brought a melancholic air to young and old. The tide turned abruptly as boys from the Exe, to thunderous applause and the occasional thunderous silence, gave good account of themselves. The crew overcame all obstacles, chiefly in the guise of inebriated officials and verbose members of the performing arts, and gained the respect of their eastern colleagues.

 

Well received & well watered the crew retired to the various bawdy houses from whence they had set forth this morn. On returning to “The Stingray” the Anchorman was seen to require support from one of the local lasses. Unfortunately the lady in question turned out to be the landlord’s daughter who took a dim view to the above close contact, nearly resulting in half the crew being thrown into the gutter. Platitudes & promises of respectability saw them re-instated and treated to the finest of Port wines. Its chief benefits being the unusually low cost and the comeliness of the serving personnel.

 

Once the entertainment provided for the youth of Harwich had subsided the crew somehow found their way to their hammocks and failed to fall out for the rest of the night.

Malarkey.

9^th day of October. Year of Our Lord 2009.

In Port:- Exmouth.

Weather:- Rain, visibility less than a cable.

Wind:- SW 7 to Gale 8.

 

Malarkey left dock at 5 bells in the forenoon watch with Mr Minella at the helm. Sam reported an extended passage towards the east coast port of Harwich with vessels slow moving around the notorious bottleneck of North Foreland. So slow in fact that the anchor was dropped enabling the crew to break their fast at their leisure. After a passage of some 95 leagues Harwich was fetched at 4 bells in the first dog watch.

 

Signals later received suggested that the crew didn’t take long to repair to a quayside hostelry. In a trip of about a week, with nothing to relieve the monotony, days seemed like hours. Even a series of moving etchings from “My Italian Mother” did nothing to ease the boredom.

 

Mister Cleavage & Master Heights departed later that morning in the Jolly Boat laden with contraband and, after only a brief diversion via the Dorset coast, arrived, via a more rapid fetch around the South Foreland, at 2 bells in the first watch.

Here continues the log of the good ship Malarkey, being the 1^st day in the month of October in the year of Our Lord 2009, also being the 57^th year of the reign of our sovereign, Queen Elizabeth II.

 

The original logs were lost overboard in the Great Summer Storm, during which our crew were too afeared to rescue the contents of the Captain’s cabin from the tempestuous sea. In fact they were too afeared to leave the wheel house & get wet.

 

If only Roger, the cabin boy, had bolted his sea chest firm, the records of previous voyages would be available for inclusion herein. This not only lost us valuable reminiscences but lost Roger his position. But every cloud has its silver lining as rapid promotion sees him now the master of his own vessel, the “Falmouth Fish”. A run down craft with a young and motley crew who are mostly obsessed with a wench going by the name of Betty Stoggs. Embarrassed by his misdemeanours on board the Malarkey, Roger changed his name to Dick, thus avoiding the current owners’ potential displeasure.

 

But we digress.

 

The oceans are currently at peace and trade is flourishing between the ports of the World. Some piratical activity has been reported in the Arabian Gulf, but the French Navy has managed to repel recent attacks. Although what they were doing at Trafalgar………..?