A belated entry . . .
Writers block . . . where to begin? Well, begin at the beginning and end at the end; is the good advice as was given to Alice, so here we go then. This letter finds us on the last leg of our cruise and land is almost in sight. We can smell it in the air, we can feel it in our bones, it puts a spring in our step, it makes us whistle and it makes us sing. If the Captain and his crew of worthies in the Pilothouse can fill their ears with wax and guide us past the Sirens and through the Wandering Rocks, then we shall all go to Grandmas' at the end of this quite unique Odyssey. I for one am wondering if my wife will recognize me after all these years, I hope old Blue is still alive, he'll know me for sure.
I have to admit to feeling quite humbled by all the interesting and eloquent entries to Dr. Julia's site, who would have thought that so much talent could be gathered inside one small hull floating away on the deep? And all this; 'nor any drop to drink.' I have to say that had I realized so much was going on up there I would have become more involved sooner, however, reading all your great entries has quite brought me up to speed.
As an Engineer, me and my comrades in arms down here become a little insular with regards to what is going on up above and sometimes we are thought to be out of touch, and not with out reason I might add. As we pass upwards through the hallowed cloisters and corridors of knowledge and wisdom, to our well deserved racks, we observe from a distance all the activities with which the science community are involved and sometimes stare in awe at the many samples and specimens contained in the labs. "What's in the bottle?"
"Murky contents" is the sage reply.
"Looks like the soup" sez a wag.
Could it be Ultrasubstantialized Slothropian ooze from the primordial subcutaneous layer? Is it wing of bat or leg of toad? Perhaps it is the miasmic ethereal remains of Hamlet's grandfathers' ghost? Or eyeballs from another era, observing in time frozen silence, the activities around them at present . . . or a fusty toenail in a leyden jar, with a light dusting of Acme Super Glow luminescent powder to make it glow in the dark? Something to make you smaller "Drink me, Drink me" (but only drink the supernatant though, the precipitate will give you the trots)
Either way, for us, it is as though we were servants at a cake and jelly party, or ragamuffins watching a movie through a store window, of rich children unpacking their Christmas presents. Seeing all the happy smiling faces but knowing there is little in it for us to savor. Huh, I knew I should have paid more attention at school, could've been wearing a rocket scientist hat by now, "Ich bin Rakketenmench." See what happens when you don't eat your Cornflakes? Never mind though Jim lad, Grandmas' is in sight and we can drown our collective present sorrows and misgivings about the future of mankind in a glass or two of best fourpenny if you please . . . Singing . . . "Porque quiero olvidar, . . . traicion de las mujer . . ."
Anyway folks I had better cut this short and get to the point, otherwise the editor will scratch all the best bits . . .it has been a great cruise for me and the guys in my department and even the drainage system gurgles its thanks that you weren't up there on a fish catching mission and stuffing the viscera down their silently waiting throats. It was good to see you all and to participate in a small way in your endeavors and I am personally glad that your mission turned out to be so successful.
Oh, just a couple of things before I wrap. I note that some of you have put in a brief personal history of your careers to date, so here is mine. I was born of Irish parents behind enemy lines in England, who eventually sold me for ten bob (old Brit. coinage) at the age of nine for medical research. At age eleven I managed to escape into rat infested poverty and deprivation before being press ganged into a sea going career. I started off life as a deck apprentice and successfully worked my way down the ladder to the bilges, which is pretty much where I remain to this very day. Well, everyone finds their level, don't they? After jumping ship in New York I finally realized my life's dreams by slipping across the border into Mexico where I wet backed it there for fifteen years, including ten in penal servitude with the love of my life and mother of two somebody else's children, Telemachus and the other one whose name escapes me at the moment. After that it was rum running to Barbados, sheep smuggling (out of Texas) and tax evasion in Florida before finally signing on with E.C.O. for a life on the Palmer. The recruiter told me it was going to the West Indies.
By the way, I didn't know about the toe thing, you know, Magellen's statue. I always wondered why it was so shiny. I thought maybe that he had gout or that it had to do with all the drunks leaning on it as they lurched their way home to their pie and chips.
OK, That's all folks, It's been a good one, hope to see you all back again soon, although . . . quoting . . .
"I doubt it"said the Carpenter, and shed a bitter tear.
Carl Largan (El Morsa Viejo)
Engineer
a.k.a. El Coyote Guapo
p.s. Dr Julia was wondering why there were no entries from any of the crew, well, now you know, I rest my case.
p.p.s. Here is an alternate version of John Masefield's poem (thanks to Pat) which I rather like, quite succinct, thanks to the late Spike Milligan, Brit comedian . . .
I must go back to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky
I left my shirt and socks there, I wonder if they're dry?
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