Aha me hearties

Aha me hearties, some action at last. We were sailing the seas off Sumatra, looking for the pygmies and cannibals of the islands, when we ran into a frenchman, a ship of the Napoleonic line, called the SS Foret Paisible, captained by a canny cannonaider called Capt Michel O'Murphy McCoy. A hard toing and froing, lots of very fast avoidance, zig-zagging galore, but we caught up with her and boarded her finally before sunset, and subdued the crew after much cutlass and musket work. Lots of gold on board. The sailors on board the Sovereign are mighty pleased me hearties. Even Cap Jack Ethan Hawke was toasting the men tonight over a glass of port and some captured camembert. A lovely skirmish. Very nice provisions too - lots of fresh fruit for the old scurvy. Lemons galore. Ahoy there shipmates. Grace a Dieu.

Nope

Nope there shipmates, the HMS Repulse has gone her way, so am now relegated on board the Sovereign, and we are hot on the heels of one of the great warships of the Napoleonic Fleet, the Roi du Soleil, captained by a dour and dubious frenchman called captain Janus de MacDonald, a name which means two-faced, a Scot drafted in to the enemy fleet at the last minute. He is assisted by his own able bodied seaman, chief petty officer, Jean-Luc de Sherrington. And these repair back and forth to Fleet headquarters at Biarritz where life is always wine, women, and song for the french captains and their naval officers. Cabin boys beware. A partying lot the venerable french crews on the Sovereign and they never miss an opportunity such as when their big Bastille Day comes round on the 1st December each year. Not that they celebrate it properly or with due regard for Marie Antoinette la comtesse di Albany and Brione de Bosey comte de Taunton who did go to the guillotine in a queste for dignity. A dreadful lot keen on hacking young innocent women to death in ecstasy driven parties.

Ah so ahoy

Ahoy there shipmates. Am adrift now on the high seas heading toward the islands of the deep south in Micronesia and approaching the coastline of New Zealand or Nova Terra as it once used to be called in the glorious days of Capt Cook. His ship is still moored out there somewhere gathering dust. Yes down here in the southern seas, it seems that some maps have gone out of print, and our sea charts are taking us toward an island that time has forgot, an island that was once jungle, and which hides the bones of huge leviathans. A creepy place, where rumours abound of old Dodo birds, like the Dodo I saw once in Oxford Schools tethered to a student who won it from a Dutchman back in the 1790s. This island here on the old sea charts is much confused with the old Terra Australis of Capt Cook and Ned Kelly. Is this the island that legend has forsook? Am making my way back to the barges of the grand Duke of the fleet, which is easier than trying to find my way back on board the HMS Repulse now. The Sovereign of the Seas is a nice ship, where the old seadogs greet me like an old veteran of the wars. Lucky I was accepted, and the captain is not so bad about it. Beagles ahoy. 

Phew rescued again

A close call. A Royal Navy frigate happened to be passing and has rescued me. I am back on board with my commission all shipshape. Ahoy me hearties. Saved from bloodthirsty pygmies led by a tribal chieftain called Dak es Salaam. A lucky escape. Some beads did the trick. Thank God the French left behind some rosaries on the beach in their quick getaway. I don't like the French but I do admire their courage when it comes to these micronesian indians. And the French do a bit of evangelising from time to time. But saved again. And soon I shall hope to rejoin the Repulse somewhere, once I have a cup of tea and a chitchat with the admiral on his schooner off the coast of Indonesia where he is looking in Sumatra for the last dodo bird. A tasty dish apparently. Anyway those fenchies are really amazingly courageous, the way they just swashbuckle straight on to these islands full of cannibalistic hungry native-indians, and impart their old pagan quasi-roman religion all over them. Anyway soon tea with the yellow admiral, a quick report into the sea lords, and then on to find the Repulse in this interminable war.   

Hey up, hey hoe

Hey up lads, wait for it, wait for me. Ye gads of the sailing ships, the 3 golden galleons are sailing away from me, and leaving me on this island in the south seas near Australasia and all its jungles. What now ye gads, what now? And so it was that our gallant sargeant at arms on board the HMS Repulse was left behind as the fourth man, by the very captains of the HMS Lancastrian Rose, the HMS Yorkist Hyacinthe and the HMS Repulse that he had served so faithfully during this terrible war with the Napoleonic Frigates, now to savour his own sea-salted fate, like a Saltheart Foamfollower, and to await the inevitable arrival on his beach of a tribe of pygmie indians of a distinctly cannibal hue, and looking very hungry even at this distance. RIP.

Freezing down here

God knows what brought us down here, chasing a difficult cuss of a couple of French frigates, the SS Neptune and the SS Nicholas des Bieres, and we can still see those frenchies dancing on the decks and cannons opposite, and then escaping after popping a cannonball through a Royal Navy mainsail. Auch aye me hearties tis shocking stuff, what these frenchies get up to on a sunday night down there in the southern seas, near the volcanoes of the southern islands around Australasia that Capt Cook discovered, and now, more action as we approach some french islands among the Micronesia Belt. What next? Galoots in galoshas? Maybe. Time will tell.

Whoosh

Whoosh - ye gads shipmates, that canon ball came right over our heads and smashed through the mainsail. Ahoy there shipmates. We have just been swung round aft by a lean corvette of the French and she is headed out to sea west of the Fiji Islands. Must have been hiding somewhere. The Galapagos Islands maybe. Anyway it is off we go and all sails to the rigging. All hands on deck. Sound the drum. Musketeers in the crow's nest. But my word the Fiji Islands were shocking quiet me hearties. Not a soul in sight apart from the cannibals. The French have done a deal with the natives methinks and are making off the supplies which they have probably bought by selling their prisoners to the polynesians. Despicable lot the frenchies. Always opportunistic and flogging our boys for a mess of pottage. Our english boys don't have a chance in these hotblood markets. They will be supper tonight on the beach. How can we rescue these poor boys? Zat is ze question. Sacre bleu et mon Dieu.

Well actually

Well ahoy there shipmates and sailors and old seadogs. We have had to reroute down to the Fiji Islands but nothing doing down here. All very quiet and idyllic, and loads of unpopulated pacific atolls. Nothing doing.

Fare well

Ahoy there shipmates. Today we have finally rounded the Cape and we have rendezvous'd for the last time with the USS Lexington, a fast-rigger of a ship of the line from the US navy and one that has done a fair bit of service hunting pirates. We have exchanged supplies and science and information here at the Galapagos islands with her captain, Captain Fitzroy, and so it is fare thee well to all the young american sailors on board that once great ship and we have just pulled up the anchor to bid our goodbyes this happy morn at dawn. She was a rugged and controversial ship and a young one of a young nation, but a solid friend of General Cornwallis, and a great help with regard to the Napoleonic pirates round about these southern seas. A great pity to see her go. Splice the mainbrace me hearties, tis a time for science. Fare well captain Fitzroy and the Lexington.

Splice the mainbrace

Anyway it is all a storm in teacup, that's what our mad captain calls this huge swell in the sea, and the ship like me old golden galleon of once upon a time at Sleaford is being smashed from pillar to post. Ah ahoy there lads on the crow's nest, do ye see those rocks off the Cape before we are all shipwrecked. Tis a long way from Portsmouth here me mateys. And a long way down to the sea bed. Alas alas, we are almost shipwrecked on these seas, and this is high summer for goodness sake. Emperor penguins galore that look like Napoleon in his pomp, but even they are looking a bit run down and scruffy and shady now. May the gods of the ancient seadogs help us through this. I hope that Wellington gets better weather than this for his invasion of Portugal and Spain and the Pyrenees.  Ahoy there shipmates.

Whoopsy daisy

Whoosh - a wave straight over me face at the captain's wheel. The closer we get to Antarctica the more heaving the seas become what with all this tossing and turning of the ship. The waves are huge the sea deep and much fomenting. And the weather is positively fulminous. Shocking stuff all this heaving seawater. Impossible to find our bearings some days and the nights are terrible too. We know that we are by-passing the Patagonia coastline of Argentina and Chile but tis mighty hard to keep this rudder straight in such seas. The French have disappeared again over the horizon and are heading maybe round the Cape. Back home in Portugal, the old Iron Duke is closing on the French troops. These latter are an illdisciplined lot that are always stealing pigs, and dancing on the bars of the cities they bother and destroy - a right lot of brigands and charlatans and ransackers if every we saw any. Anyway the local peoples and villagers have no time for the French. Freeloaders and batmouthers at the best of times. We have not seen as worse as these. The corvettes the SS Veinticinco de mayo and the SS Armada del sol are up ahead, from French-controlled Argentina. Must be out of here - captain on the bridge.

Thus far

Well me shipmates, shivver me timbers, here we are on the southern runs into the Tierra del Fuego and the Cape of Good Hope, which we shall have to round at some point, though it is a perilous sea journey. We are approaching via South Georgia where the biggest waves in the world are to be seen. Still pursuing the SS Hadden de Merdre and his sister ship the SS Shields de Warden. A long way from the land battles between Wellington and Napoleon this weather back in Europe on the Iberian peninsular. Wellington has landed some troops in Portugal, our oldest ally, and is busy setting upon the French Imperial Guard there. General Nuno de Bras is the leading general of the Portuguese Army. Doing well to contain Napoleon's heavy cavalry regiments. These tend to get stuck in mud.

Shinny up the rigging

The waters down here at this time of year are warmer than usual, a case of letting go in the calmer waters of the South Atlantic, much like the drink-sotten crew of the SS Venereale on their feast days of rum and bacardi and coke come 1st December each year. Wine and women and chaos for a whole day as the entire ship drops anchor usually in the West Indies and there lets go of all inhibitions. There is never an excuse needed for a party on board the SS Venereale. Capt Firestarter of the Old Nick, who is right up the charlies of the Venice Republic and its Navy, knows a good bargain when he sees one, no work, no tutoring, no tying of knots unless it is a clever double stitch in two directions, and lots of partying, lots of rum, and lots of girlie crewboys on board the ship. Oh yes there is nothing so pleasant as an all-nighter on those ships. La malaise republicenne. Capt Coc and Capt BC, known as the Couple on the the deck, or as 2 Jack Sparrows of the Venetian Republic, have lots of time for the crew, and there are lots of young blonde cabin boys carrying the drinks in and out of their Captain's burgundy carpeted Salonetta. Very nice indeed. The Venereale never sets sail though from the Bahamas and they never attend their lectures in Venice at the Navel Academy because the crew is perpetually drunk. 

Ahoy there laddies

Battling high seas down here below the Equator at the moment, on our way to Brazil but blown off course to St Helena where Napoleon will eventually die in exile and go to heaven or worse. Anywhere les franglais are like frogs really, they are always bleating and gulping at a fresh sea air that does not exist. The reality is very different, life is a constant battle out here on the waves, and the waves are permanent. Approaching St Helena. No sight whatsoever at the French end of things of some Tristan de Cunha, or even of our quarry the SS Hadden sur Rochelle which is a beefy 26 gunner and nimble on its feet like a ballerina from the Paris Rage-aux-Follies, but there ye go laddies, it is not every day we see action on the great unchartered seas to the south and the old jungles of Antarctica. Watch it lads, there be sea-monsters and all kinds of Leviathans and nessies down here. Ah sure, run up the mainsail, the beaches of Patagonia are covered with rotting dinosaurs like the old plesiosaurus me hearties. We hear things at night and we reads our sea-charts and our maps laddies, printed by an Italian called Vico. Good lads on board here, all press-ganged lads from the estates around Greenwich, and why the dickens not, lads who would otherwise have ended up in the riots or in the doldrums of unemployment. A bit of national service with the Royal Navy me hearties is no bad waste of the captain's rum. Better than handing over 40bn of the people's gold bullion to the French.

Sailing I am sailing

I am sailing, I am sailing, cross the sea, cross the sea. Yes I am sailing, stormy waters, I am sailing, to be free. Ahoy there shipmates, this be our song methinks captain, as the HMS Repulse takes another bow full of sea water and hits another wave and passes out of the harbour here in the Azores and presses on to the south and the west toward the forbidden and dangerous oh so dangerous coastlines of Brazil and the seal people of the hunting kind. Oh yass there shipmates, there be lions in them jungles in Brazil.

Ahoy there me shipmates

The trouble with pursuing the French and Spanish and Argentine navies of the Napoleonic Fleets is that they have a tendency to go aground down here in Latin America sounds, bays, and inlets. Difficult to spot.

These waves

These waves are pretty high but nothing to the high hillocks of sand and the smooth lines of the lovely sand dunes here in the Azores where the beaches go on for miles in silver sand. And there is the old portly marshall grey lifting a glass of his evening port, saluting the seagulls that occasionally drop itno his drink and caw their song - gaga gaga, and thus admiring the view of the isles of legend, while lovely Lena plays about on the dunes. A lovely girl that flitted across to the western islands once and never looked back. She is living here now permanently. 

The trouble

The trouble with France is that it is full of French - so said the Anglo-Irishman Wellington once. Actually the trouble with the French is that too many admirals think they are Napoleon, too many capitaines think they are the admiral Guichet de Gascogne, too many sailors think they are the capitaine, and too many soldiers think they are sailors. And some aliens think they are French, like the rear-admiral self-appointed Chelsea Cheesle who is not even French. So despite being a self-proclaimed anglais-style republique, Venerabile France is full of ambition.

Aha splice the mainbrace mateys

Splice the mainbrace, shoot up the nest, ride the headwind, shin up the main mast. This is the stuff of legend, sailing the seven seas. Righty ho mateys, that's what we are here for, cutting through the warm waters down here near the Bahamas, like the mercantile schooners the Thermopylae and the Cutty Sark, or the square riggers, the Lightning and the Nightingale. Tis a lovely sight to see such graceful square riggers, so low astern, slicing through such blue waters, the Sark captained by Sir William Petrino Cobbett, hero of many a run across the Atlantic, and her sister ship the Nightingale, captained by a jerk-knee reactive seamen called Capt Murphy the OC DSO GCSE. A fine couple of full riggers that emit a lovely shrill whistling sound like an old Spoonerism sound as their bows cut through the warm Bahama waters. Ah yass tis a lovely sight to behold for an old seadog like meself. Gorgeous couple of sarks needing a lot of protection from the infernal kids on the seas that are these Carib pirates. The hairy pirate on the Old Sea Wolf, Barbarossa, helas is never too far away from the Caymans and his infamous daughter pirate the Keira Kay on the Amber Pearl are never far from such beautiful ships in these warm and shallow and transparent but treacherous waters. Ah yass tis a grand consolation for an old timer on the high seas like meself. But the Royals are hard about and astern to look after such delicate mercantile seamen. Oh yass tis mete that the Repulse might protect. Ahoy there mateys.

Once ahoy

Once upon a time we would have followed the Greeks and Romans and Vikings sailed around the Atlantic to the North via the Orkneys and the Faroes, and then via the major land masses of Iceland and Greenland, but with sail we have to follow certain prevailing winds and the like. So here we are not far from the Azores and making a landfall tonight. Here we are a bit too close to some of the big Spanish guns such as the SSS Reale Madrid and the SSS Escorial, two big warships of the Spanish line out of Cadiz. Captained these tow by seasoned veterans of the Burgos and Castile families. There are a few Irish quisling sailors with the fleets of Napoleon, all given over to drinking and playing the wild rover on the piano with the old boy, and a surprising number of Austrian turncoats too after the Battle of Austerlitz. Napoleon's Iberian campaign is not quite the success he had hoped as many ordinary folk in Spain seem to like our Wellington. Wellington is good to the villagers and folk in the countryside, unlike Napoleon who as a socialist revels in the ratty lattrino like sewers of euro-cities. Like a slab of the runny konigin cheese Stinking Bishop so too their Napoleon.

Ahoy in the nest

Ahoy their captains of the line, tis us on the HMS Repulse again. Far out to sea now, and looking for the Capricorn. And other ships besides like the old tugboat of the French navy, the Marshall Ney, putting round the waters of many French embassies abroad and spitting out its pollution like a dirty old canal barge. And we haven't even considered the Spanish fleet yet. There too there are some notable enemies of the Realm. The Count de Cordoba is a very big nasty piece of work with three decks of cannons to face. The Spanish are very reactive south of the Equator so we shall see what we run into soon.

Aha ahoy there in the nest

Ahoy there boyos in the crows's nest up there. These boys inthe nest are a good lookout of a crop of young lads, mostly from solid schools around Greenwich. But they are good at spotting the problem of what we call the Franglais, since these are anglais that have gone over to the French and their Napoleon and still sport english colours, lingo and english manners, with very public school, Oxon, and slightly exagerrated tributes to our goodly king. Les franglais are les miserables venerables though, because though they often put on a brave and somewhat snooty face, many of their working class lads give the game away when they are dancing on the bars of Paris and Rome and Berlin of the Three Sicilies. A snooty lot they try to be, and very pukkha before the foreigners, but treason is always found in their secret backroom cabins with the signals of Ney, Castiche, and Napoleon on their lips. A double dealing lot les miserables venerables and tricky to spot, though oddly enough, their union jacks are curiously flown upside down.

Ahoy there me hearties

Ahoy there me hearties, 'tis a devilish winter that is blowing onto our keels this winter's tale of a day, why 'tis almost a twelfth night and the count himself struggling with the square rigging. Splice the mainbrace shipmates for this is goin' to be a hard fight to the end. We have to get this ship seaworthy and out of the shallows around the treacherous Needles, off the Isle of Wight, and the French to worry about, staring down our very throats. Ay ay captains of the line, 'tis not an easy thing we do today. A day that might yet live long in infamy if the French squadrons catch us out of Cornwall. And yet the Royal Navy limps on to fight another day, much holed by French gunneries. Whatever a French captain might want throw at us off the Needles, we must away today during high tide. The French needle ship, the SS Macormack is still there haunting the coast, running up and down, espying our naval schools, targeting our youthful blonde and blue-eyed sixth formers, just beyond the guns of the men of Falmouth, wittering about, over and over again, and worrying our coastal defences, and troubling our young boys in the sea cadets who have to man our martello towers. Yeah the napoleonics are a dastardly and mutley crowd to deal with.

Ahoy there shipmates

Well here we are in the southern seas now, approaching Tristan de Cunha. The southern seas have always been an encounter zone with the anarchy driven revolutionary navies of France and Spain, even now as we approach the Battle of Trafalgar, about which more later. There are two ships, two French frigates that cause much mayhem in the southern seas around the Cape of Good Hope, the SS Fromage des Routes captained by Stephane de Hayes, and the SS Rue de Petits Champs, captained by Solomon de Cheese, a real cheesy chestnut of a chestleburn, and these two, totally committed to the eternal revolution, have caused a lot of upset and anarchy over the years, as they seek to penetrate the defences of innocent young countries and nations. Even the dubious SS Eveque de Givenchy, captained by Vincente de Cadiz and its sister ship the SS Amusante des Bois de Boulogne, captained by Le Philippe de Rothschilde de Witt are not so daring as these two, in their constant and now unacceptable barrage of innocent poor ports and harbours along the atlantic and pacific coasts right round and up to the Galapagos Islands. Hanseatic Springs. Helas. Here we might find them since they do not know the waters roundabouts the Galapagos and the deeper currents that flow there. Mm a struggle begins. Fromage is ordered down below in the officer's mess, with Captain Sigur Rose de Fitzroy here on board the HMS Repulse, so I must see if I can find some Danish Blue for the captain and his men. 

Of course

Of course out here on the high seas, at night, when there's nothing much between the boys and the deep blue, it is always gusty and blustery. A high wind can blow a boy clean off the poop-deck. Like it or hate it, the napoleonic SS Neptune can sometimes set sail in storms like this bluster and gale of a night, being a fast caravette of a ship, though a bit of a frigate by all and sundry account, and yet they all say, the dark and evil French, that the Neptune is their finest corvette, oblivious to the rise of a new species of French attack boat, the SS Jolie, captained by Capitaine Jean-Claude O'Leary, the famous or infamous Franco-hibernican captain of the watch who had all his crew murdered because they failed to see the HMS Henry VIII slipping out of the deltas and eddies of Alexandria in the fog. Yes those French frigates are quite a vicious lot. Here on the HMS Repulse we are to maintain our watches this night, lest another French fast attack boat slip out of the port at Brest and down the coast to link up with the Napoleonic Spanish. A dreadful lot that stink of garlic and spice and paella, with oceans of Sangria flowing most nights in the officers's mess, and the spices that flutter across the high winds of the Bay of Biscay. We have been at war now with Spain for more than 500 years. Hardcastles these Spanish and most focused of the three enemy navies. Back across the Atlantic tonight. Then on to Washington. 

Actually there is none

Actually there is no warship out there that can really threaten the Royal Sovereign of the Seas, which is a huge ship built in honour of Henry VIII's Mary Rose, and commissioned originally by the hanoverian George III. Not even the Marshall Ney flagship the SS Neptune is quite up to taking on this beast. Yes the Royal Navy is quite pleased with the royalty ships among the ships of the line. Still the theory goes, so as not to make us complacent, that a few little pairs of picket ships of the French, like the SS Butt and the SS Petrina, when paired up as a vicious couple, can always do a bit of damage to a big teuton warship like the Sovereign. And also the napoleonic SS Neptune has a vicious habit of pairing up with coal ships like the SS Antonia, which emits a shrill bleep when shooting its very old pair of canons, as captained by Chief Petter Officer Shrew and his able bodied seaman DS Oscotia, to deliver the odd barrage against Royal ports such as Kingstown Jamaica. These couplings are legendary among the officers of the Royal Navy back at Greenwich who often dine out on their experiences of vicious animal couplings of the napoleonc navies. Marshall BC Ney has a tendency to make vicious and very common concourse with young Spanish frigates from around the corner from the Venerable ports of Brest down by Cadiz, where Brit sailors still do homage to the statue of the Virgin that previous sailors damaged in a battle. Anyway these vicious couplings when 3 lots are put together, as with the SS Milner and the SS Sherington can be quite destructive if they pin their man against the coast or on the rocks of Gibraltar. Our thoughts today go to Capt PD Boyle who served long and hard on board the USA warship the USS Lexington STD.

Ahoy captain

Tis a mighty wind that brings us down here to the Azores and beyond laddies. Ah yes it is not like the old days when men among the Greeks and the Romans rowed across great oceans and hugged the coastlines of the Shetlands and Orkneys and Faroes and Iceland and Greenland and Newfoundland to arrive at a new world of New India. We are making landfall in the Azores where all the locals speak some kind of obscure lingo. Like the lunatic marshall Ney that fights for Napoleon and is out here somewhere sowing confusion in young minds and despair in young bodies, it is time to locate this nasty little brood of vipers among the crowmac napoleon and his French hedonist sailors, sowing dark disease among innocent local populations like la malaise corbeille and generally wrecking the peace again.

Ooh la la la malaise francaise

Ooh la la, la malaise francaise. Difficult to explain why Napoleon does not himself venture out onto the high seas, though rumours are all about Chartres that he is diseased these years and does not appear openly en publique. We have sent our spy Capt Roberto de Suffolk to Versailles to find out what ails the dying dictator - perforce it is the usual Plunkett & Maclean from the Bois de Boulogne alas!!

Etrangers ahoy!

So our few ship's officers from the wreck of the Napoleonic squadron around the SS Revolution, SS Bastille, and SS Paris it seems have gone below to dine with the captain. All pork and bacardi-rum down below. Surprised to bump into Capt Aeneas in such friendly terms but his ship went down with most hands. Ambitious the french, but many do not go down with their ship like other nations do. Like the scottish ie, where Aeneas has been sailing this summer with his aide de camp Capt Pierre-Jean Montgomerie. Napoleon has had an expensive summer, having lost the SS Paris and SS Cap Vincente but he is ambitious to crash a fire ship into the RN port at Portsmouth. A tedious, gray and inconvenient expense to shore up Portsmouth all these years. Capt Christiane de Crispin has been out and about with Napoleon selling RN secrets of the Cinq Ports. A handful of lemons these french.

Whoah ahoy there

A schooner is coming alongside at the moment. Difficult to know who or what is in it, so we have deployed some snipers and gunnery sargeants. Well shivver me timbers 'tis a few sailors from the Deluxe Sovereign of the French, Capt Aeneas and his crewmen officers from the SS Roi du Soleil, the fine warship, the Louis XIV. Well glory be to Queen Bess and Walter Raleigh for dappled things. 'Tis a grand surprise to see a few defectors tonight. Capt Aeneas is well known among the French, having fought in many battles for the Napoleonic SS Venus and SS Mars.

Whoosh!!

Gosh that cannon ball went straight over our heads and through the mainsail. All hands on deck maties. These blighters on the Black Hudson are a huron sort of foe. French and black to the fingernails, too many trips to Paris maybe by the embankment, and there we are. 'Tis a dark night for sailors of the Royal Navy. 7 splashes to date and most of them shortt.

And then there were 7

The seven seas are a great challenge especially to experienced old veterans of the waters such as Capt Domenico Jacobin of the MV Saturnalia who has spent this last year since 1745 touring the seas around the caribbean off-loading grape shot on civilian shorelines with impunity at 7 till 10 every evening. With his trusty aide de camp Leanna de Watkins to help he has found his targets every time from way out to sea beyond the harbour walls of holy mother Jamaica. We have despatched a RN frigate to intercept called the HMS Leoniana, a ship unknown to the Jacobite pirates as they cruise up and down those wrecked shore batteries around Port Royale. Soon we will also deploy the young inexperienced but feisty Capt Keira O Nightsight on her destroyer, the HMS Black Arrow. Even the US ships are considering joining in the action as the USS Lexington is around and also the redoubtable USS Broken Arrow!! 

Ahoy there shipmaties

Ahoy there Capt Aldone of the HMS Antonino - this was our last salutation for the finest of the RN vessels on the high seas of the Germanic Sea (modern North Sea) and the Scottish Sea (North to the Orkneys) as he pulled across our bows and headed down to the flat seas of the Bermuda zone and the Caymans. A brave stocky lad when he joined us on the waves many years ago, and footloose and fancy free in those happy days. Pursuing pirates in the Caymans has been his chief joy this last couple of years. Those pirates on the Black Pearl and their black lady Queen Bess of the MV Venerabile have been at it again, firing their cannons at innocent young lassies off Jackson Heights.

Gosh

Gosh these choppy seas. They are worse than the sluggish mercurial silver seas mentioned by the sailors of Agricola in the first century AD among the romans when they circumnavigated the Scottish islands around 77 AD thereabouts. Anyway, tis choppy out here on the high seas of the Atlantic around Iceland. Lots of sailors in the water and most almost lost overboard. Many are being lost, despite our ropes around their waists. Huge waves breaking over the deck. Even seagulls are landing on the deck and floundering upon our planks. 'Tis a black day for sailors today. A black day for the king's conscience that took us here. As Will says in Henry V.

Truth is

Truth is .... out here on the high water markers of the Western Clyde and the Scottish Seas it is not so easy to tell. Old greybeard of the Grey Wolf is around somewhere too up here near the Icelandic coastlines and there are one or two French ships too around. Russian cargo vessels carrying silver in the main is what the old greybeard likes to raid as one of the older sort of pirate he has much to quarry on russian ships out of Murmansk on their runs to Rekjavicar and Greenland and St George's Newfoundland. The Hanseatic League of ports have approached us to go look out for this character on our sealanes but he is very alussive if not elusive and has painted his ship in grey so as to be invisible in the usual fogs up here in the northern silver seas of mercurio. Not easy spotting this one - very hanseatic himself - and drinks alot of vodka and rum. Still we shall endeavour to find him for the old Tsar Vladimir's sake. And sned him and his crew back to Port Royale with his tail between his legs.

Anyway

Anyway that was Scotland. Nice harbours and nice women but they all speak gaelic now on these shores so God knows what they are saying anymore. So we have stocked up with supplies, lemons and limes and oranges and fresh water, and we are now setting sail for the high seas to go look for pirates like old blackbeard himself down around Jamaica on the other side of the Azores. Landfall in the azores or the canaries or madeira maybe by tea time next sunday evening. We shall see. Old blackbeard of New Maulem in Surrey is a bit of a wimp when it comes to it, but we shall face him and confront him about the black gold he has been stealing off Galloway Point with his trusted steed Capt Black Eyed P of the Black Eagle and his side-kick Capt Jake Sparrow of the Black Pert from the coastal resorts of Port Royale and Kingstown and Burkestowne this last year nr where the old Lusitania went down with all hands on deck. 

Gosh quite nice up here

Scotland and its many sea lochs are so lovely. It is so nice to sail around the coastal sights and towns via Oban and Tarbert and put in to old inns and coaching houses. Ah yes, nice to be on this side of the fiery Atlantic. I see the SS Neptune has been blasting away at anything that moves with a union jack on it - obviously a French revolutionary that hates anything coronal, but maybe this lady doth protest too much, and is keen to come over to the crown that she wants to blow apart. It happens like this to old sea captains - they yearn for a knighthood like old Capt Philby of the MV Sandyeel and Capt MacClean of the MV Corbeille du pain and then Capt Burgess of the SS Remington Steele - from the old supply French fleets of our Napoleon's historical trawlers that occasionally hang around the HMS Londinium or the many decked HMS Trinovantium. Life in a Republic can become quite tedious when there are no real benefits and no reward mechanisms except next year's revolution and nother guillotine to be built in French Canada or the colonies. Yes the Neptune is quite bored with revolution. Quite bored even with boredom and always feigning her death.

The gales the gales

The gales of the seventh sea are playing up at the moment, so it is everyman to the rigging. The boys inthe crow's nests above are struggling frantically, and the whole ship is shuddering under the strain. The seventh gale in seven days on the seventh sea, not far from the North West Passage. The captain too is nort looking too good, and his niece is down below, turning a whiter shade of pale, if not green, like the sea up here. We shall make for Hudson Bay and see if there is some safe passage to the St Lawrence River. All well on board and nobody lost over the side so far. The St Lawrence River is a good stretch but if we are friendly to the Hurons we might survive.

Et alors

Well this is a surprise. It appears we have found one of the rebel French piracy ships captained by none other than Capt Greybeard himself, known sometime in an alias as Capitaine Rolfe Harrison, the French pirate who once saved the life of Napoleon during a mutiny at sea, after Napoleon had ordered a return to Marseilles. This ship, the SS Neptune, or sometimes called the Grey Wolf, has been routing up and down the coastlines of the Bahamas for some time. We caught her off the coast of Bermuda not far from the colonial coast of New Spain or les ameriques. Herewith a picture of the Greybeard himself, Capitaine Dan Day Lewis in his real identity. Pirates are easily dealt with, usually by hanging, but Greybeard assures us that he is really an enemy of Napoleon the Great. The Repulse over and out.  

Phew

Phew. A close call today. We are tacking in a somewhat choppy sea with a few blusteries to the north, off the coast of Scotland, and now that we have turned in our Royal Navy enseign and adopted French colours for a while to see if we can attract any French corvettes and maybe fire a few broadsides, so life is very interesting. A new scottish navy is emerging and we have seen a few scottish square rigs around the northern silver seas of Tacitus fame just by Ullapool. The scots - a very int lot. A new French warship has appeared on the distant horizons though, a very big brown three-tier gunner, called the SS Corbeille de L'eau which is built a little like the old Sovereign of the Seas, captained by a very thin-lipped mean miserly reptilian sort of napoleon-worshipper called Old Nick Kernet, nicknamed by the boys down below in our choir of happy lads as Capitaine Kernet the Frog. Grace a Dieu it is nearly night-time so we might slip into one of the islands to the north by the Shetlands for some supplies. Flying French colours is very attractive. A nice tricoloeur. And very big. Bigger these standard issues than we thought. We have all swapped uniforms too, but we must try to resist adopting revolutionary values too. This is only a fiction for the moment.   

Last we 'eard

Last we heard, there was another French corvette out there off the east coast of Canada carrying huron allies to the battle for Fort Bryan and its frosty environs. This ship, the SS Slipstreame, is captained by one of the most daring, dashing and devilish and scheming of all the doylieboy captains of the French Navy, a young petty officer rising through the ranks called Capt Audinette de Snape, one time sargeant in Napoleon's Iberian Army, but now transferred to the Imperial Revolutionary Navy. We have run into this one several times during the ins and outs of the 6 1/2 -year Indo-French Wars in Canada when the French made treaty with the Hurons and attacked a number of our British forts all along the frontier from Fort Michael in Columbia right along to Fort Andrew in Halifax and then along to Fort Brendan in Newfoundland. Capt Audinette de Snape is an able bodied seaman and with his cutlass he makes a difficult cuss of a snipe to snape. His superiors are a middle-aged and a middle ranking pair of officers called Chevalier Brian de Bolesy on board the SS Sous le Soleil and Capitaine Brian de Froste on board the SS Garcon Gris who like to make hay with the Hurons and the Crow and the Blackfoot, two evil scheming revolutionaries who have started many localised revolts around the colonies against the Royal Navy in the British Empire. A pair to watch. But not as dashing as Capt de Snape. Snape like his other half, Capitaine Garette de Galette-Walsh on the SS Bourgogne, is quite the done thing, quite the ticket, and recruiting many of our captains over to the Napoleonic Revolution. Am half tempted myself to go over to Napoleon. In my more insane moments. Still I might have lost my faith in Wellington but not my reason. Wellington always wins.    

Aha aha

Action today on the high seas. Approaches to the Sounds around Halifax. We sailed over sea graveyards of the icebergs and their victims on the approaches to Greenland too. No french anarchichies in sight all morning till this evening, when their lofty canonnades could be seen afflicting the canadian peoples along the coast. We raced to engage a corvette, the SS Bayewatch, and her beastboy captain, the infamous Capt Emin De Barlowe, but when we arrived the vessel had slipped away into a sea fog. Captain on the bridge, must go, oh and he has brought his little niece along, La Finistere, called as such we are told after some simple farm girl from Bretagne that was badly beaten up and mauled by the many French popes around Paris. Capt Johannes Teuton de Foxe of the American Navy has also sailed into view. A wonderful sailorman and a nice array of canons on deck. A real sharpshooter too we are told. Must go to greet.  

Aaaaaaaaaaaah this is the life

Aaaaaah there is nothing like sailing the Seven Seas. We are sailing between Ballycastle and Tarbert and hope to put inthere later, maybe at the Anchor Sailor's Inn on the quayside at Tarbert by the old Mull. Lovely weather, blue sea, lots of blue sky and sunshine, and a nice day for sailing with a brisque breeze to blow us over there to Scotland. Water supplies a bit low so we must put in somewhere and take some on board - maybe somewhere along Loch Fyne. See what the local belles have in mind, and herewith nextdoor we have a photo from our last visit to Scotland two summers ago, where Lauren and Andromeda supplied some fresh water for the ship's crew. Spotted a French sail the other day off the western coast of Ireland - it might be the devilish SS Ardent with the devious Capt Haddon on board - a schemer if ever there was one - an Irishman in the pay of the French and a close friend of Napoleon. Says he worked for Blucher once but he is definitely on the side of the French Revolution and its potty Napoleon. French colours. That devilish red and blue tricoloeur.

Mmm odd that

Odd that encounter with the Neptune and their captain. A deceptive sort of chappie. Still atop the crow's nest the cabin boy watch has just shouted and it seems another sighting of a whale out to starboard. The sea is very flat out here and the captain is not very pleased at our slow progress to the canadian pacific coast. We are almost becalmed for now. Nothing happening. Napoleon is snoozing. No other French corvettes. We have put the boys up on the mainsail atop for a careful watch as the French are notoriously opportunistic. They like to strike in the afternoons when everybody is snoozing on deck. We must keep an eye out for that SS Hudson. A real square rigger. We will have to watch for these as we approach the Canadian coast. All of Napoleon's fleet are deceptive. They sometimes run for shore and then double back and double across the backs, the backs of the Royal Navy. They even run home to British shores at times promising a defection that never actually happens. A dangerous unpredictable lot.

Well ahoy mateys

Well there she blows, off to starboard, the boy in the crow's nest shouted. And sure enough out jumped a huge white whale and against the reflection of this white whale that night our boys on the HMS Repulse suddenly glimpsed the shadow of a dastardly french man o war sliding up to out blind side during the night. All guns blazing then for a few panicked seconds. The french captain of the SS Neptune is renowned for playing possum. A deceptive ploy that many young sailors fall for. Ease up there laddie, we have just spotted him turn into the night and the fog. And there is where we will probably find him put up, in the hidden bays of San Francisco. Capt Antoninus de Moate is the dastardly captain of that ugly ill fated square rig. And one day we shall catch up with him. Ahoy there.

Ahoy gentlemen

Ahoy sailors. Here we are on the HMS Repulse. It is a great joy to sail the Seven Seas, and to host up the Royal Enseign atop the old mast on the quarterdeck. Yes this is the life. A life of freedom. Of eternal journey. This is what every young boy wants from the adventure playground that is the sea. This is life on board a Royal Navy vessel. And while we are chasing pirates off the Bahamas or running our skips ashore in the South Pacific, we shall let you know how we get on around the various coastlines of the world. Ahoy captain. Captain on the bridge, so must go, and bye for now.