The Butcher of BoB

[Blackhorse]

Yeah, I know. Just sort of a disclaimer thing.

 

[Ozark Wizard]

"Enter!"

 "Pardon me sir," the deck hand replied. "Watch reports we are officially out of sight of land, and Lieutenant Walker says we are on course for Scotland by way of Greenland."

 The captain looked up from his log and seated his pen. "Very good. But why are you bringing this to me? Where is the XO?"

 The hand relpied, "Sorry sir, the XO is down again in his bunk. Something is wrong. He's spilled his supper on the fore deck this morning, and he was last seen making his way to quarters. Lieutenant Walker has the Watch until he can be relieved sir. Begging your pardon sir, the Lieutenant is looking a bit red in the eye and could stand a relief. Shall I wake Yeoman  Smyth?"

 Langhorne rose from his desk, and gently closed his log book. Looking up, he smiled slightly shaking his head and replied, "No, I will see to the day Watch after I check on our XO. See that the good Liuetenant is made aware I will be on deck shortly. Thank you, that is all," and with a dismissive wave he turned for his tailcoat and peaked cap. "Stand fast son," he said, "How is the climate this morning?" The mate replied, "No more brisk than in here sir."

 Thank you again, carry on" Langhorne said as he replaced the scarf he had removed from it's hook. With that, he stepped out of his cabin and headed up the stairs. It was a walk along midship to the XO's wardroom. A truly bothersome affair to our captain, as it required a maze of aknowledgements, greetings, and salutes, turning an otherwise short walk into something akin to making one's way through a cotillion. Why the XO chose his quarters away from the captain's was another mystery. The ship's carpenters had a bit of work converting that space into something habitable. Adams complained that the night watch boot heels and conversation was easily heard through the deck and it distracted him from sleep. No matter, thought the captain, a morning constitutional does a body good, eh?

 He entered Adams's cabin and was greeted with the smell of partially digested food. Adams was snoring, and ocassionally coughing. 'Better to let him lay and rest', the captain thought. As he closed the door however, Adams awoke with a start and shot out of bed, weaving slightly as he saluted Langhorne.

 Terribly sorry sir," he mumbled. "Am I late for my watch sir?"

 "Relax Jonah, you look a dreadful sight. I assume it the guts again?" the captain replied. "Shall I send for our good doctor, or would a visit from our resident entertainment committee be of better service? Perhaps one of his 'wee drams' may help?"

 Adams smiled weakly and said, "Lord no Cap'n, not anoddah moment with dat chatterbox would spare I suffering. Indeed, I gwine require a freesh bucket for my bedside eef dat mon keep wavin' dat flask at me. What evil witch brew do he have in dat ting you figgah?"

 "I believe Mr. Lachlan calls it Scotch," said Langehorne. "Evil it may be, but it seems to suit him well enough. At least the crew aren't inclined to tap his kegs in favour of our rum. More's the pity say I, our provisioning of that is always in short supply it seems."

 Adams winced. "Even rum seems vile to me of late, sir. I and I have been so cautious aboot putting anything down der," holding his stomach. "I even got to where I have dee topmen gettin' my rations from dee gallay as day own, so I don't risk dat rascal of a cook slippen' in hees 'special mix' in mah portions. Steel no joy doh, sir."

 "I know you and Chef are not chummy Jonah. I have spoken with him on several occasions regarding his, um recipes. Indeed, I even relieved him of the arsenic he uses to keep the rodents down, so it cannot possibly be that. Perhaps we should have procured another cat for this voyage?" the captain smiled.

 Oh no," said Adams. "You recall what happened to our last feline?"

 Langhorne threw his head back laughing. "That's right!" he exclaimed. "Didn't it end up being cooked by that other passenger? What was his name again?"

 "Adams was hees name, sir," Adams replied, smiling big now. "John Adams."

 "I know I asked before. Are you sure there's no relation to you?" Langhorne queried. "You two did seem rather similar."

 This time it was Adams's turn to laugh. "Ooh, yah mon, dat's eet. Dat mon was white as new canvas and two feet shortah den me! Shiney head and all, one could shave in dat reflection! Hahahaa, No way, no way. And den heem eat dat cat like eet was honey, you see dat?"

 "No, thankfully I missed the scene, but it made a great log entry. So, can I convince you to relieve the day Watch commander so I can get back to my logs? Assuming of course, you are able to stand. I'll sneak a bit of bread and tea from the galley and have it fetched to you when you assume your post. What say you to that?" With that, Langhorne extended his hand, where Jonah reached out and took it.  

 "Aye sir, we have an accord."

 With that, Langhorne turned and made his way to the galley. 'This will be another grand morning' he thought to himself. Chef was surley enough on a good day, and though there was a certain mutual respect stemming from their history, the two never quite saw eye to eye on things. But they always got along and had each other's back, back in the day. No better man in a scrape, Chef was. After the incident on the Jupiter however, Chef was always bitter about Langhorne getting an officer's tribunal and he the naval court. Having Chef on board made Langhorne feel as if it were at least a small compensation. As disagreeable as Chef was, he never disobeyed any order, followed, well, most strong suggestions given by our captain. With this possible exception regarding Adams and his relationship with the crew as a whole. 'Perhaps this morning will be different', thought Langhorne. 'Perhaps Chef will have changed his demeanor a tad and will be, um, civilized.' Holding that thought, he entered the galley, only to find it empty. 'Even better,' he thought. 'I'll just grab this crust and a flaggon and be on my way.' He made his way to a locker where Chef kept anything he wanted safe from vermin, and promptly tripped over something on the floor. In the dim light  coming from the doorway he could just make out it was Chef's cleaver, sticking into the floor as if dropped there and it landed, handle up. He pulled the knife out of the deck with some effort, and admired the heft of the blade. He then found the butcher block Chef used and sunk it into the wood solidly. 'This could do some damage,' thought Langhorne. 'But where is Chef? No fire going in the oven, and there should be bisquits or porridge cooking.' Then it occurred to him that perhaps Chef was below decks in the stores pulling something for a meal. Yes, that must be it....

 When Langhorne returned topside, he saw Adamas was at his post, and the day crew was at task, all was well. Adams recieved the bread and water gratefully and after some light conversation the captain decided to return to his logs. Almost to his cabin he remembered he was curious as to where Chef was, and began asking about for him. Apparently, no one had seen him, but as it was past shift change, maybe someone on the night crew had laid eyes on him.  One thing was certain, there was no breakfast to be had, and the crew was feeling it. Langhorne decided to rouse the crew and have them conduct a search of the Alexander.

Chef was nowhere to be found.................

 

[Blackhorse]

Chef was nowhere to be found...


Dun Dun DUN!

 

[D.L.Ruth]

Hmm I feel as if a mystery is a foot. No I need to get a Sherlock Holmes pipe just to participate :twisted:

 

[Blackhorse]

Brilliant, my dear Ruth. Capitol. Eh wot?

 

[fishnbanjo]

Armed with the proper equipment

A sleuthing I shall go!

banjo

 

[Stick]

'Excellent!', I cried.
'Elementary', said he.

 

[Brewdude]

Have to admit, if this all came from the fertile brain of our Ozzie it's masterful in execution thus far in all respects. Including and especially the dialogue.

Cheers,

RR

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Have to admit, if this all came from the fertile brain of our Ozzie it's masterful in execution thus far in all respects. Including and especially the dialogue.

Cheers,

RR

Well, shucks.....

What's really been rough on the ol' Bean is that I wake up in the morning, do my chores, then sit down with my coffee and pipe and start writing in Notepad and hope it flows. Copy and paste.... I had something written and saved, but then my computer crashed and I lost it all.... So I'm kind of writing this quick draw style.... Please bear with me..... :roll:

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Armed with the proper equipment

A sleuthing I shall go!

banjo

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[Timbo]

Enjoying the story so far Wiz, splendid effort here.

 

[Blackhorse]

He’s like an Arthur Conan Louis Stevenson!

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Hi ho folks! I haven't forgotten chapter two of our mystery. After my doctor's appointment and a trip to the post office I'll get home and weave the next pattern in our tapestry!

Thank you for you patience......

 

[BriarBeagle]

Wiz,

Are you taking pre-orders for your novel? Put me down for a copy. :cheers:

BB

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Wiz,

Are you taking pre-orders for your novel?  Put me down for a copy. :cheers:

BB

Second chapter now working!

 

[Stick]

Yes, top job Wiz. You're a busy chap and this is an extensive piece of work that I would imagine is taking a good deal of your time.

A big thank you from me.

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Chapter 2. The drill, and a Scotsman's Perspective.

   "Right, men! We are short a crewman on a craft just over twenty paces! How many eyes does it require to locate a man?" Langhorne barked. A couple of hours had passed with the entire compliment searching, to no avail. Early on it was suggested that perhaps Chef fell overboard, and after questioning the night crew it seemed possible, but unlikely. Chef was not prone to being on deck after policing the mess after supper. More often than not, he spent time in private studying school readers and learning to write. His bearth was known to be covered in papers with scripts and occasional drawings. This, and no one claimed to have seen him, prompted Langhorne to examine Chef's things for some clues.

 "Everywhere has been searched then?" asked Langhorne. "Bilge, ballast, everywhere?"  

 "Aye sir," replied Adams, "De crew been all ovah dis boat, and no trace o' dat miscreant been turned up. May be dat he done fell off deh boat and doze bod feesh take heem. You may be wantin' turnabout and look Cap'n?"

 "And where would we look first, eh Jonah? The currents are at our back and the winds from the west." The captain's look of distress was evident. "We have a commissioned trip on board, and winter is at our boot heels. And with current and speed of sail we must have travels over two hundred miles or better from the last time Chef was spotted aboard ship! Dammit!!" With that, Langhorne threw up his hands, and briefly waved them about. Drawing them down, his hands balling into a fist, shaking slightly, he jammed them into his pockets and abruptly turned from his XO and walked off to the fordeck, shaking his head as he went.

 "Ordahs, sir?", shouted Jonah after him. Langhorne didn't even turn, nor stopped, shouting into the wind, "Maintain course and speed, Exec! Carry on!"

 As Langhorne approached the fo'c'sle, only the sound of the water peeling around the hull and the wind were his companions. Langhorne swam in his thoughts, emotions flitted about like autumn leaves dancing in a whirlwind. 'Chef, dammit, Chef', he muttered to himself.

"Are you planning on jumping too Captain?" said a voice from behind him. Langhorne closed his eyes, grasped the railing tight, and replied, "No Lieutenant Walker, just clearing my head. Can I help you with something?"

 "Whah no, suh, I was juss curious regardin' yo approach to ourah current predicament. Massah Jonah says we ain't goin' back fo one of ourah own, in fayvuh of ourah passengah's alacrity to get his products to mahket. Am ah to presume that is correct and true suh?" Walker replied. Langhorne winced. 'Good Lord, why is it there is never a crew without some sort of descent in the ranks?' he thought to himself. Turning away from the sea, Langhorne faced the lieutenant, and said, "I REALLY wish you would stop calling him that, George. He is your XO, and thus your cammanding officer. If I hear of you using that term again you will recieve five lashed at the mast. Am I understood, Lieutenant?"

 "Whah, of course, suh, of course. Ah don't mean nuthin' bah it, ahmz juss havin' a bit o' fun is all. But, but, beggin' the Cap'n's pahdun, suh, mah question regardin' the cook's loss? So, we ain't goin' back to search?"

 'This moment was bound to come,' thought Langhorne. More of it too, until he decides to address the whole compliment. It seemed as good a time as any, and anguishing over the decision wasn't going to change it. "No", he said. "Assemble the crew mid deck, I will make the announcement. Have someone fetch up Mr. Lachlan as well. I want everyone present. Ask the XO to call down the riggers please.  Ask. That is an order lieutenant." Langhorne turned back to the view. 'Ah, Chef...'

 Almost an hour later, Langhorne faces the crew assembled. It took a while for the shipmates to set sails and rigging to require little watching for the moment.

 "Where is Mr. Lachlan?" he asked loudly.

 "Am roit herre Ship Master!" cried out a voice in the crowd. Langhorne could just make out a pudgy hand flailing about in the midst. "Dinna ken yah see me? Doon herre!"

 "Mr Lachlan, would you please join me up here?" Langhorne shouted down to the hand. "I want to ensure you hear me!"

 The group parted to allow the Scot to make his way up to the navigation deck. Lachlan stopped at the foot of the steps, pipe in hand, and put it in his mouth, and proceeded to grasp the rail, at which point, the pipe turned sharply upside down, causing him to jerk his hand up to right the pipe and try a different purchase on it with his lips. Satisfied, he nodded and then reached for the rail again. After the first step up, the pipe began to slowly turn over again. Lachlan stopped dead in his tracks, grasped the rail with his other hand, and began to fidget with the clay again with the first hand. A quiet chuckle washed over the assembled crew, at which point he looked over his shoulder and laughed back at them, "  Aye, meh teuchter maw bore me a corriejukit. Ah dinna ken grasp nil otherwise!" The crew just snickered between themselves, 'What did he say?', 'Yes, but what is he saying?'....

"Perhaps you could stow that pipe a moment while you make your way up, sir" Langhorne suggested. Lachlan turned to him, grinning, replying "Aye, ah cood, but noo the now. Get on weeyah speech, ah ken hear ye jess foin from here", and with that, he plopped down on the steps and lit his pipe with a magnifying glass he produced from his vest pocket. 'So that's his trick', thought Langhorne. 'Europe truly is a haven for the sciences!'

 "Very well then", Langhorne said loudly, "You are all now aware we have misplaced our cook. It seems apparent that he is no longer aboard ship. As we have no idea when he disappeared and our position relative to our loss, I have decided that we are to continue our commission and course, in deferrance to attempting a location and rescue. So. That puts us prospecting for a new cook amongst ourselves. I want a show of hands from you as to who has experience in a galley? Hands up!"

 No one.

 "Come, come, surely some one of you can cook! Be lively now! Any one of you?"

 No one. Up came that pudgy hand, this time from  the steps.

 "Aye Ship Master, Aye ken heat food, even bake bannock! Ah am'nae the best cook, bit ah dinnae burn muckle 'n' ye wilnae be hungert afterwards! Forby, a'm better company than th' cook wis 'n' na yin need fear poisoning!", he said, looking right at Adams. Suddenly, he rose up, and began to scamper off to the galley, without so much as a 'by your leave'. Langhorne looked at his bewildered crew, shook his head and proclaimed to those assembled, "Gentleman, it seems we have a new cook. Anyone who can translate, see the XO or Lieutenant Walker for menu suggestions and get them to the galley. I will be in my quarters working on the logs. Back to it gentlemen, we have somewhere to be to get paid! Mr. Adams, a word."

 Adams approached Langhorne from the wheel, still wobbling. "Are we feeling better Jonah?" Langhorne asked. "A bit, sir. Wot was dat aboot, dat Scotsman? He gwine be our new cook?" said Adams.

 "It appears so. If I understood him correctly, I think he said he knows how. Apparently willing to to boot, judging by the way he beelined to the galley. He did say something about poisining, maybe he thinks he can do a better job of it than Chef in removing you from the roster!" Langhorne replied through a big smile.

 "Dat's not eeven funny, sir" pouted the XO. "Bot serious sir, do you tink Chef dun fall off dem boot, or may be heem get help swimmin' wid dem bod feeshes?"

 Langhorne looked straight into Adams's eyes, searching, and asked quietly, "Do YOU think he got help? Speak plainly Jonah, if you know what happened to Chef, I need to know now, before rumours catch spark. Do you know what happened to Chef?"

 Adams looked right back without flinching. "No sir, I'm having no knowledge of wot happen to dat ugly mon. But I say good riddence. You know dehr ees no love lost wid us. But I gwine say dis. We both be undah your flag, sir, and I respect you choices. Any udder Cap'n I had cut dat mon's eyes out and feed dem to dose feeshes on hooks. But not wid you sir. Heem now widdout deez problems heem left us. May be yousa ask Lieutenant Walkah, dat was hees watch. Ask heem like yousa ask I and I. Heem turn an eye, heem a liah..

 "Carry on, XO," Langhorne replied. "If anyone needs me I'll be in my cabin."

 "Workin' on dem logs, sir?" Adams said through a big smile.

"Yes," a fleeting smile back. "The logs."

 

[Blackhorse]

Assuming we need to know the niceties of what the hell is going on...dis’s gwine be a doozie.

I’ve started a white board with characters, suspects, arrows and clues. Now all I need is a dialect translation manual.

:lol:

 

[Ozark Wizard]

Assuming we need to know the niceties of what the hell is going on...dis’s gwine be a doozie.

I’ve started a white board with characters, suspects, arrows and clues. Now all I need is a dialect translation manual.

:lol:

So, apparently, does the crew..........

 

[BriarBeagle]

:lol: