meako
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Further excerpts from the lost log of MV Porchantic.
These final few pages are heavily damaged. Apparently, they have lain undisturbed soaked in tea and festering with mouldy crumpet crumbs for many years.
I have managed to transcribe parts and for clarity I have filled in the blanks. The following text bears no resemblance to any persons living or dead...except by accident.
Captain Schlossberg of the Porchenberg Admiralty strode manfully into the wheelhouse. A quick assessment of the panicking mob desperately squabbling over the last crumpet reminded him of Seagulls.
Brandishing his clay pipe in one hand and a tot of Rum in the other he gestured towards the mountainous berg looming menacingly closer with every second.
Helmsman ! he bawled,
I need some ice F'Me Rum......The room fell grimly silent...The faces of the crewmen froze in terror with the realisation that there was no way of steering the ship to avoid the monster.... or the iceberg.
All Ahead Full! came the command.
The boiler room went into overdrive shoveling coal. The engines pounded out with heart ripping rhythm. Schlossberg donned his oilskin sou'wester and with his pipe and beaker in hand booted open the hatch and went to the Badminton court towards the bow.
The ship smashed through the waves at an unheard-of speed.... She struck the Icy leviathan with the madness of a kamikaze. Schlossberg raised his beaker in salutation , pointed the claypipe at the iceberg as it was pulverised into millions of tiny chunks by the MV Porchantics triple reinforced prow. The two giant rotating Slurpee blades protruding from the hull began to spin, mashing the iceberg into slush as the ship glud unhindered on its course without missing a beat. The captain swirled the beaker of rum as a perfect little iceblock plopped into from the sky with a dainty splash and with a quick puff on the clay pipe which always made him look somehow wiser went back inside.
These final few pages are heavily damaged. Apparently, they have lain undisturbed soaked in tea and festering with mouldy crumpet crumbs for many years.
I have managed to transcribe parts and for clarity I have filled in the blanks. The following text bears no resemblance to any persons living or dead...except by accident.
Captain Schlossberg of the Porchenberg Admiralty strode manfully into the wheelhouse. A quick assessment of the panicking mob desperately squabbling over the last crumpet reminded him of Seagulls.
Brandishing his clay pipe in one hand and a tot of Rum in the other he gestured towards the mountainous berg looming menacingly closer with every second.
Helmsman ! he bawled,
I need some ice F'Me Rum......The room fell grimly silent...The faces of the crewmen froze in terror with the realisation that there was no way of steering the ship to avoid the monster.... or the iceberg.
All Ahead Full! came the command.
The boiler room went into overdrive shoveling coal. The engines pounded out with heart ripping rhythm. Schlossberg donned his oilskin sou'wester and with his pipe and beaker in hand booted open the hatch and went to the Badminton court towards the bow.
The ship smashed through the waves at an unheard-of speed.... She struck the Icy leviathan with the madness of a kamikaze. Schlossberg raised his beaker in salutation , pointed the claypipe at the iceberg as it was pulverised into millions of tiny chunks by the MV Porchantics triple reinforced prow. The two giant rotating Slurpee blades protruding from the hull began to spin, mashing the iceberg into slush as the ship glud unhindered on its course without missing a beat. The captain swirled the beaker of rum as a perfect little iceblock plopped into from the sky with a dainty splash and with a quick puff on the clay pipe which always made him look somehow wiser went back inside.
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