Micah 6:8
Genesis 50:26
Yes, your life matters.
Some of you are still sheltering in place, but fear not: I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?
On 16 February 1923 - exactly 99 years ago! - Howard Carter and company opened the tomb of the Pharoh Tutankhamun. Lord Carnarvon, one of the first to enter the tomb, died mysteriously, stoking the idea of the curse of King Tut's tomb.
Today's freewrite prompt word is Thread
This puts me in mind of a collection of short stories I've been writing. If you're familiar with the tales of Baron Munchausen, you'll have a head-start on the concept here. I'm writing a series of tales by the sadly-forgotten explorer and bon-vivant, Prescott J. Urbanek. The collection has the working title of "The Merest of Threads" as it is by just that that most of these tales hang.
This one was written based in part on the experiences of my Dad in the US Navy. He read it and told me it all comported perfectly with his recollection of his crossing of the equator.
So, I share here one episode from my collection, "The Merest of Threads." Enjoy!
Episode Five-and-Forty – To See the Southern Cross
Whilst our steamship was still in the relatively placid waters between the Tropics, I resolved to make the best possible use of the scant time remaining to me in the Northern Hemisphere by recording my most remarkable meals of the last few days. I had barely begun to assemble my thoughts when I heard the boatswain’s whistle piping a rapid tattoo of notes, followed by the second-mate’s call for “All hands on deck!”
The clatter of sailors’ feet on decks and ladders was enough to drive every thought of meals and their recording from my now-curious mind, so I left my journal and pen behind, departed my stateroom, and hurried above to see what might be the matter. To my surprise - although apparently not so to any of the crew of the good ship RMS Plimsoll - there lay in the water, a scant eighth of a league ahead of us, what appeared to be a blue line, stretching as far as eye could see to East and West. The blue colour seemed the alternate between lighter and darker shade in a regular pattern, but a pattern of which I could make nothing.
“Heave to, boys!” shouted the Second-Mate. “Grab the poles and stand your stations!”
I watched as the seamen ran to long lockers running the length of the ship, one on the port, another on the starboard, and pulled from the open doors long poles which were equipped with what might be called a crook or a crotch were it found in a tree. These poles looked to my practised eye to be on the order of twelve cubits in length, and casting that self-same eye on the cabin I determined its peak, or apex, to be approximately ten cubits. I wondered - briefly - about the connexion between these two dimensions. I say it was but briefly that I wondered, as our forward motion soon brought me near to an understanding of just that relationship.
The crew who were nearest the bow of the ship were now at the ready, their poles held thrust straight out ahead of them, dipping what seemed dangerously close to the surface of the water. I noted that the sound of the engines had changed - we were most definitely slowing down, albeit nearly imperceptibly at first. As I noted this “sea change,” to coin a phrase, I also saw the other crew members moving into position just behind their fellows at the bow, tightly lining each side of the boat to some distance back.
Counting the men on either side - as counting things seems to be my wont - I noted that the port side lacked one man to match the starboard, and that there was still one pole in the port locker. Without a word to anyone, I sprang to the locker, procured that final utensil, and moved to the end of the line of sailors along that port bow.
“Tell me, good fellow, just what it is we are to do with these poles, eh?” The ‘swabbie’ as I had heard them sometimes addressed, looked at me with a look of surprise, but quickly answered my query.
“When we gets to the hequator, m’lord, we picks it up with these ‘ere crutches and we slings it over the top o’ the boat so as we don’t ‘ave no trouble tryin’ to get hover it, if you see.” He smiled nervously at me as he spoke, but fortunately I was able to understand his somewhat unconventional speech and be ready as the shouts came from the forecastle: “Steady me lads! Here she comes!”
Much as one can enjoy the smooth functioning of a team of rowers, just so was I nearly lost in my admiration of the first several rows of my fellow ‘crutchers,’ as one supposes we might be called. In a steady, smooth operation of their crutches, these bold seamen hoisted the blue belt aloft, each man joining his preceding fellow in turn. And shortly it was, in fact, my turn to join the labour – and so I did, putting my shoulders into it with a good will and moving with them en masse as we walked this equatorial barrier from the bow of the ship to the stern. Again it was fortunate that I had realised that the next step would be to release said barrier back to its wonted spot, floating mid-way between the Tropics. As I was now in the van of the troupe, I - and my starboard counter-part - led the crew in releasing our burden, and that most gently. Even I, unaccustomed as I then was to the vagaries of the ocean-going life, could surmise that simply dropping the Equator back in the ocean would likely swamp our ship with an un-natural southward-moving wave.
Later the First-Mate of the boat (it was he whose place I actually took in this endeavour!) praised my quick thinking and adroit crutching of the Equator. He had been kept below-decks by an event which ought probably not to be related here, as it deserves its own exposition rather than to be a mere foot-note in another tale. God willing, I will relate that tale another day.
copyright Charles J. van Becelaere
Keep Calm and Don't Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.
The mental health issues related to our insane lockdown and the pandemic are especially hard for people with depression. NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, has a 24 hour helpline: 800-950-6264.
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