PDA

View Full Version : A STORMY DAY in BLACKSOD BAY



Goldie fish
9th June 2012, 00:47
Stolen from facebook.

• A STORMY DAY in BLACKSOD BAY

The day started pretty much as any other, lying half asleep just before call the hands, knowing that the day is about to begin with an invasion of the senses by the shrill sound of the bosuns pipe. The next event is the sharp rap on the door by the Duty PO, followed by him sticking his head around the door, cheerily calling you out of your reverie. Much too cheerful by half for the time of day. You want so badly to tell him to **** off but he will only knock even louder on the next cabin door just to piss you off. You think to yourself just another five minutes, but by now your bladder is conspiring with the Duty PO to keep you from falling back to sleep You roll over hoping that this new position will give some relief, but no that is not to be. Because now your eyelids are joining in as co-conspiritors they refuse to shut and keep the harsh flourescent light out, the light which was turned on by that ****ing cheerful D/PO

As your bladder keeps reminding you of the remains of the few pints from last night,you start to feel another pressure build. Yes, there it is, the good old first of the day, a real honey, now you have no choice it's get out of the bunk or be gassed to death. So there you are, feet on the deck looking at your reflection in the mirror, thinking **** me if thats not death warmed up. The ship is rocking and rolling as you make your way to the heads a good indication of what the weather outside is like.The usual sounds greet you as you trudge along the alleyway. a cachophany of farts, burps, retching & coughing those sounds which let you know that everyone is alive, well almost anyway.

The relief is is almost orgasmic as you rid yourself of the troublesome load in your bladder, with another quick jam tart just for good measure the first chore of the day is complete.Then it’s the usual bird bath at the sink, spraying water around the cabin as you attempt to wash the sleep from your eyes. By now you are somewhat in control of your senses and you head to the mess for breakfast.

The usual salutations greet you from those in before you. Good morning! Whats ****ing good about it dick head. About time you got up! Who Rattled your cage. Did you bring the afternoon paper. Jaysus you were in some state last night. Go and ask me bollix. The usual platitudes, which make it such a joy to be a member of a caring mess. You have just flnished your breakfast and some prick comes in with the first ball hop of the day.

We are going out to sea in an hour, there's a bleedin Dago trawler on fire on the Porky pine. This would not be so bad if it was not blowing a howler outside or if you had not had a gallon of beer the night before. With eight to ten foot waves moving the ship a little more lively than is usual at anchor you cannot make up your mind if it is your drink sodden head, or the ship rolling, causing the unsteadiness in your feet.You could see a milk man feeling sorry for his bottles in weather like this.

Then the good old Radio Eireann voice of the man upstairs comes over the blower. Do you hear there. This is the Captain. Bollox, now you know you are in the shit. We may have to put to sea he says, tie everything down, I will let you know in an a hour what the situation is. Well I have to say its probably the longest hour I ever spent, waiting for The Voice to let us know what was to be our fate.

Then some bright spark decided to start the engines as if they knew in advance what the future held. As it transpired it was only an over-zealous watch keeper jumping the gun. God bless and spare him I know he meant well, but the sound of the engines, and the last Broadcast from The Voice really did it for me, let no one tell you that fear is not a mild laxative.

The hour passed and we waited anxiously for the dulcet tones of our leader to tell us the new's. Every time the piping system sounded I felt the need to run for the heads. Then at last came the message, not from The Voice, but from Bruiser the Voice's right hand man. I thought to myself that the Voice cannot bring himself to tell us the bad news. Or maybe he was saving it for for the interview when we came back in, who is to know what was going through the Poor man's head. Maybe they will give him Gaybo's job when he retires. EIST LE SEO says Bruiser, and if the mere mention of those three words did not spark terror in to the hardest of hearts then nothing will.

Anyway said Bruiser, the new's is good, we have been given a stay of execution, the flyboy's in the IMES have saved the day but we were not completely off the hook, four of the Dago's stayed on board Gobshites This left us in a state of suspended animation, we could be still called out, but what the ****, we were still at anchor, and for the moment at least we were spared the merciless pounding,which would have ensued had we to leave the anchorage

We may as well have been at sea for what it was worth,because the swell in Blacksod Bay was fairly throwing us about. What ever about the weather, most people were looking foreword to taking advantage of the time at anchor, catching up with those little jobs that are put off for no good reason other than that you could not bother your arse to do them. Little jobs like laundry, writing letters, scratching your bollix or what ever the job entailed.
Most people had ear marked the afternoon for watching the Ireland V Scotland rugby match, that was something at least to look foreward to, or was it. As usual the Irish side played dismally with a final score of 38 to 10 in favor of the Scots.

Maybe the Irish rugby squad should be threatened with being sent to sea as an incentive. The day ended thankfully without the ship having to leave the safety of the anchorage the normal banter continued, plans were made for some board game or other to be played to pass the time during the evening.

But how quickly mood's changed during the course of the day. First there was trepidation the possibility of having to face the onslaught of an atlantic storm, then relief, that we were spared the hours of constantly lurching and pounding and the inevitable meeting once again with God on the Great White Telephone, then the anticipation that Ireland may through some great feat of skill, triumph over our Scottish opponents, then disappointment when our hopes were dashed once agin by the kilted warriors.

Looking up at the leaden sky over Blacksod Bay, I listened to the wind howling, nay, screaming around the superstructure and felt the motion of the ship as it rose and fell, with the heavy swell whipped up by the southerly gales.

Waxing poetic,I thought to myself, self, are you mad or what! Most people of sound mind were sitting at home or in a pub, doing normal everyday things. But here am I sitting out a storm, waiting, ever waiting, to do the normal
Everyday things that we sailors do.
What a day, What a life.

Signed

Usetabeanera
First Published March 10th 1997

moggy
9th June 2012, 13:39
brilliant keep the story going

blaisec
31st August 2012, 12:32
That's mine!!!!

Goldie fish
31st August 2012, 13:57
That's mine!!!!

Well, you should write a book. Between yourself and murph there's a good library in ye, and far more interesting than the bellybutton pondering of that chap who served as a Stoker on the Corvettes.

jack nastyface
31st August 2012, 14:32
Well, you should write a book. Between yourself and murph there's a good library in ye, and far more interesting than the bellybutton pondering of that chap who served as a Stoker on the Corvettes.


'Bellybutton pondering'. I'v never heard it called that before....:n:)

hptmurphy
31st August 2012, 22:56
That's mine!!!!

Welcome back!:n:)

HavocIRL
1st September 2012, 01:06
Very good. Never been interested in anything maritime but it made me laugh. I want more.