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Cyclefrance · 05-18-2006, 07:13 PM

Kit narrated his story via Kagen to the whales, naturally using a good dollop of piratic licence (which is not dissimilar to prosaic licence except there’s no need to write it down).

‘So,’ boomed Winston. ’You are saying that this evil Captain Undertow has captured our good friend Sir Reggie and is even now threatening him with French dressing and a thoroughly good tossing if he doesn’t reveal where all the treasure sites are. That IS terrible!

‘And on top of that it was Undertow and his gang that spiked your cannon and ultimately spoiled our feast. Just not on, simply not cricket… I think we will have to make amends straight away. Without a doubt. Absolutely.’ (Whales tend to go on a bit when communicating with humans)

‘That Welsh rabbit was splendid, especially washed down with the Fosters - although Castlemaine would have been a tad nicer – still, no harm done. I’ll round the family up to get us back to California pronto, without the sideways lurching this time, naturally….!’

++

Back off the coast of California, UT and his crew were feeling pretty pleased with themselves. Kit was gone, and with him the Bacardi Breezer and its crew. The Flossie raised her sails to set south and find another of the treasures that Reggie had located.

Brianna and Cheyenne were happy exchanging information on recipes and hairstyles, the sun was shining and a fair breeze was filling the sails. This was what life at sea was supposed to be all about. No worries about being attacked by pirates and cannon-fire. At last a chance to relax and enjoy the roll of his ship as she ploughed in and through the waves, spray dancing like diamonds in the bright sunlight.

‘Yes, I was just thinking the same…’said Reggie….

++

If the Flossie was making 12 knots then the Breezer was making 20! Winston and his fellow whales were working in formation, like a number of relay teams. First 8 whales would push the galleon forward with all their might for about 30 seconds, then they would drop away and another 8 would take their place, these then followed by the final 7. And so they would rotate, the breaks between pushing permitting them to regain their strength in time for when next it was their turn to push again. Kit had never known his ship move so fast, and all the time they were gaining on the Flossie. It wouldn’t be long before they caught them. If they sailed at night by the stars, then they should be upon them by dawn the next day…

++

UT was woken by Reggie sort of shouting in his head. ‘What is it, Reggie?’

‘I’m not sure. I think it was a bad dream, but it seemed too real. It was as though there were many whales coming for the Flossie, and they were angry. I was trying to communicate with them, because whales use the same type of communication as I do, but their emotions were blocking out any attempt I made. I don’t like it UT…!’

‘What’s the time? Hmm, it’s getting light. Maybe we should have a look on deck. I’ll send Lookout123 up to the crow’s nest…’

The Flossie was still sailing well, as Lookout123 climbed the rope ladders leading to the crow’s nest. His telescope (checked for unwanted smilies) hung diagonally across his back attached to a lanyard. Lookout 123 heaved himself the last few feet over the ledge that formed the floor of the nest and pulled himself upright. He extended the telescope and placed it to his right eye, and in one smooth and continuous move scoured the distant horizon. Nothing. Another sweep, Still nothing. One last scan and….

A spec, but a spec growing bigger and bigger at an unprecedented rate. A minute and the masts of a galleon could be clearly seen. Another minute and he could just make out the familiar flag of the Bacardi Breezer.

Lookout123 called down to UT: ‘It’s Kit! I don’t know what wind he’s following but he‘s making some phenomenal speed and heading straight for us!’

‘The whales!’ Reggie’s words resounded inside UT’s head. ‘He’s being pushed by the whales. It all makes sense now. Kit must have spun them a yarn. God knows what he’s made them believe. Certainly not good news for us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s even convinced them that I am enemy as well. They won’t communicate with me even now!/

‘How long have we got?’UT shouted, looking up towards the crow’s nest.

‘About half an hour at the most I’d say.’ Lookout123 was already making his way down through the rigging, passing Jaguar on the way, who was busy sewing up a large tear in one of the sails.

‘This could be very nasty.’ Said UT.

‘There is one thing, though,’ Reggie interjected. ‘Not many people know this but farks and whales don’t get on at all – in fact they really, really hate each other…’

The gramophone whirred – Rolling Stones – the title just being heard: ‘It’s all over now….’ I hope not! thought UT…

05-18-2006, 07:13 PM	#43
Cyclefrance Pump my ride! Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: Deep countryside of Surrey , England Posts: 1,890	Kit narrated his story via Kagen to the whales, naturally using a good dollop of piratic licence (which is not dissimilar to prosaic licence except there’s no need to write it down). ‘So,’ boomed Winston. ’You are saying that this evil Captain Undertow has captured our good friend Sir Reggie and is even now threatening him with French dressing and a thoroughly good tossing if he doesn’t reveal where all the treasure sites are. That IS terrible! ‘And on top of that it was Undertow and his gang that spiked your cannon and ultimately spoiled our feast. Just not on, simply not cricket… I think we will have to make amends straight away. Without a doubt. Absolutely.’ (Whales tend to go on a bit when communicating with humans) ‘That Welsh rabbit was splendid, especially washed down with the Fosters - although Castlemaine would have been a tad nicer – still, no harm done. I’ll round the family up to get us back to California pronto, without the sideways lurching this time, naturally….!’ ++ Back off the coast of California, UT and his crew were feeling pretty pleased with themselves. Kit was gone, and with him the Bacardi Breezer and its crew. The Flossie raised her sails to set south and find another of the treasures that Reggie had located. Brianna and Cheyenne were happy exchanging information on recipes and hairstyles, the sun was shining and a fair breeze was filling the sails. This was what life at sea was supposed to be all about. No worries about being attacked by pirates and cannon-fire. At last a chance to relax and enjoy the roll of his ship as she ploughed in and through the waves, spray dancing like diamonds in the bright sunlight. ‘Yes, I was just thinking the same…’said Reggie…. ++ If the Flossie was making 12 knots then the Breezer was making 20! Winston and his fellow whales were working in formation, like a number of relay teams. First 8 whales would push the galleon forward with all their might for about 30 seconds, then they would drop away and another 8 would take their place, these then followed by the final 7. And so they would rotate, the breaks between pushing permitting them to regain their strength in time for when next it was their turn to push again. Kit had never known his ship move so fast, and all the time they were gaining on the Flossie. It wouldn’t be long before they caught them. If they sailed at night by the stars, then they should be upon them by dawn the next day… ++ UT was woken by Reggie sort of shouting in his head. ‘What is it, Reggie?’ ‘I’m not sure. I think it was a bad dream, but it seemed too real. It was as though there were many whales coming for the Flossie, and they were angry. I was trying to communicate with them, because whales use the same type of communication as I do, but their emotions were blocking out any attempt I made. I don’t like it UT…!’ ‘What’s the time? Hmm, it’s getting light. Maybe we should have a look on deck. I’ll send Lookout123 up to the crow’s nest…’ The Flossie was still sailing well, as Lookout123 climbed the rope ladders leading to the crow’s nest. His telescope (checked for unwanted smilies) hung diagonally across his back attached to a lanyard. Lookout 123 heaved himself the last few feet over the ledge that formed the floor of the nest and pulled himself upright. He extended the telescope and placed it to his right eye, and in one smooth and continuous move scoured the distant horizon. Nothing. Another sweep, Still nothing. One last scan and…. A spec, but a spec growing bigger and bigger at an unprecedented rate. A minute and the masts of a galleon could be clearly seen. Another minute and he could just make out the familiar flag of the Bacardi Breezer. Lookout123 called down to UT: ‘It’s Kit! I don’t know what wind he’s following but he‘s making some phenomenal speed and heading straight for us!’ ‘The whales!’ Reggie’s words resounded inside UT’s head. ‘He’s being pushed by the whales. It all makes sense now. Kit must have spun them a yarn. God knows what he’s made them believe. Certainly not good news for us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s even convinced them that I am enemy as well. They won’t communicate with me even now!/ ‘How long have we got?’UT shouted, looking up towards the crow’s nest. ‘About half an hour at the most I’d say.’ Lookout123 was already making his way down through the rigging, passing Jaguar on the way, who was busy sewing up a large tear in one of the sails. ‘This could be very nasty.’ Said UT. ‘There is one thing, though,’ Reggie interjected. ‘Not many people know this but farks and whales don’t get on at all – in fact they really, really hate each other…’ The gramophone whirred – Rolling Stones – the title just being heard: ‘It’s all over now….’ I hope not! thought UT… __________________ Always sufficient hills - never sufficient gears Last edited by Cyclefrance; 05-18-2006 at 07:17 PM.