Chaos Statue Requiem Part 2
- 3 years ago
- 32
- 0
AndyChapter 2 free porn video
Andy spent several hours with the charts of the Australian coast, the South Pacific, the Tasman Sea, the Bass Strait, and the Southern Ocean. He also pored over the ephemeris, a volume of which he had only recently become aware. [In celestial navigation, an ephemeris gives the positions of naturally occurring astronomical objects (now as well as artificial satellites) in the sky at a given time or times.]
Andy plotted a course from Jervis Bay, north of Bowen Island and well out to sea prior to heading South-West by West into the Tasman Sea, staying away from Nadjee and Cape Howe but standing a few points further west as they came level with Gabo Island. Thereafter, staying eastward of the Furneaux Islands, especially Flinders and Cape Barren, and off the eastern shore of Tasmania until just east of Tasman Island and its lighthouse. Once they rounded Cape Raoul, a pilot would take them into a berth in Hobart (he hoped). What was the draught of the Adelaide?
He would also need more information before charting a course from Hobart to Melbourne. In fact, he now realized just how many questions he had: pass to the east or the west of King Island? How to pass from the Bass Strait to Port Phillip Bay? Did one actually dock or moor or anchor in the Bay? And then he became aware of the fact that he didn’t know about the harbours at Hobart nor at Adelaide, but it looked as though there were islets (or just rocks?) in the Great Australian Bight. Perhaps one sailed around Kangaroo Island to get to Adelaide, rather than through the Backstairs Passage between the island and Cape Jervis. (Who was Jervis?)
Andy spent an hour listing questions to ask Lt. Foster on the morrow.
Foster laughed when he saw the list. “Have you read Flinders?”
“No, sir.”
“You know who he was.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Well, in 1798, Lieutenant Matthew Flinders was given command of the Norfolk with orders ‘to sail beyond Furneaux Islands and, should a strait be found, pass through it, and return by the south end of Van Diemen’s Land.’ That’s now Tasmania. So you’ve got us following Flinders.”
“Is that good or bad, sir?”
“It’s good. You’re a bit young to have read Flinders’ volumes. But you’ve done a fine job. And let me answer your queries. First, on the harbours and anchorages. There’s a full listing with depths and suchlike of all the major and mid-sized ports. If you’re heading for an unlisted site, you drop anchor a half-mile or so offshore and put off a boat. The listing is with the charts in the space abaft the bridge, which we call the chartroom.”
“Aye aye, sir. I should have known that.”
“No, we’re the fools. We train you on a wooden hulk with masts and spars and send you aboard a steel ship with smokestacks and twin screws. And by the bye, you’re overdoing it with the ‘aye-ayes.’ You can use ‘yes,’ when appropriate. ‘Aye aye’ should really be confined to when you’re acknowledging an order.” He paused. “The route you sketched is just fine as far as Hobart. From Hobart we’ll head west of Kangaroo Island and then north. We’ll need to stay well south of Althorpe Island, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Althorpe Island?”
“Actually, three or four islands. About half a square mile all in all. There’s a lighthouse on the island. Just stay clear of it.”
Foster spent several hours going through all of Andy’s questions. “My compliments, Mr. Hollister. You’re going to make a success of this.”
“Thank you, sir. May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“What does it mean that they’ve ‘decommissioned’ the Adelaide?”
“To decommission a ship is to terminate its career in service. Decommissioning confers that the ship has reached the end of its usable life and is being retired from a given country’s navy. In this case, Adelaide is a victim of the Washington Naval Treaty of 1924.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, run off and grab some lunch and meet me over there at four bells.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
In the afternoon, Andy had the pleasure of rowing Lt. Foster out to the Adelaide, where their gig was tied to a chain and they clambered aboard.
“Sailor!” Foster roared as soon as they stood on the deck.
“Sir!”
“Are you on watch?”
“No, sir.”
“Where’s the officer of the watch?”
“I don’t know, sir. I work in the engine room.”
“Well, find someone.”
“Yes, sir.” He trotted off.
Foster turned to Andy. “Someone’s in serious trouble. And you’re going to bear witness.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next hour was truly frightening. A seaman had appeared and told Foster that he’d been summoned and how might he assist? Lt. Foster was terse and formal and asked whether he was on watch. He wasn’t. He was scheduled for the second dog watch. Who was on duty? Unknown. Was there a posted watch schedule? Unknown. Where was the commander? Unknown. Andy could tell Foster was getting irked.
“Is there a bell or whistle for all hands?”
“Yes, sir. Right there by the hatch, sir.”
“Ring it.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Within a few minutes several dozen men were on deck, wearing a variety of clothes and including at least one of officer level and a CPO. The sub-lieutenant looked at Foster and asked “Who the bloody hell had called all hands?”
“I did. I and my aide boarded this vessel unchallenged. The sailor we encountered did not know who the officer on watch was, nor where he was. A seaman informed me that he was on second dog and did not know where the watch schedule was posted. We may not be at war, but this is an HMA ship. I intend to place every officer on board on charge. Is that clear?”
[A modern cruiser carries 30 officers and 300 enlisted men and women; in 1924 the Adelaide carried a complement of 432. After decommissioning the complement would have been smaller.]
There was a subdued chorus of “yes sirs.”
“Mr. Hollister!”
“Yes, sir!”
“You will take down names and ranks of all these men. One or more of them may be able to tell you where the senior officers are. You will then have those who are on this station sent for.”
“Aye aye, sir!”
“Then dismiss the ordinaries!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
And that’s what Andy did. It turned out that the Commander and the first mate were at lunch with the station commandant. No one was clear where the duty listing was. A few hours later, it was clear: with the Commander and his mate away and the ship at anchor at the station, nearly everyone down to petty officer level had gone off to “get a load on.” And when the senior officers were made aware of this by Lt. Foster, every one of the delinquents was given a choice: reduction by one rank or pay grade or a formal court martial. Every one of them took the demotion.
It was a sobered Andy who rowed them back to the shore several hours later and it was a chastened and sober crew that sailed on board the Adelaide several days later.
The Bass Strait is relatively shallow, averaging about 25 fathoms. The Adelaide had a draft of just over three fathoms, loaded. But she was riding high, carrying almost no ammunition and under half her complement. Andy learned that there were a lot of islands and rocks off the south-eastern coast: the Furneaux Group, the Kent Group to the northwest of them, and King and the lesser islands off the northwest of Tasmania. Foster refrained from criticizing Andy’s daily plots and sightings as they steamed at about 20 knots to Hobart.
Off Hobart, a pilot came aboard. “Well, done, my lad!” Foster said, clapping Andy on the shoulder. “How do you feel with nearly a week’s cruising under your belt?”
“Pretty good, sir. I was nervous, but it’s vanished.”
“Excellent! Have you ever been to Hobart?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re twenty, now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. I’m going ashore this evening. Would you care to come along?”
“Yes, sir.”
Andy’s new mentor took him to a large house, “Claudia’s” where they were seated in a parlor and Foster asked attendant about “the available menu.” She returned in a few moments with two women about Andy’s age and a well-endowed woman in her thirties. Foster broke into a grin.
“Francie! What are you doing here?”
“Hello, loot. I got married to a fisherman. He were up by the Hogan Group and grounded and sank by them Twin Islets. So I went back to work. Short version.”
“You’re looking very good.”
“Thank’ee. Your lad?”
Andy had been eyeing the other two women.
“No. My new second. He’ll be leaving school at the end of this trip. Tonight’s part of his training.” All three women laughed and Andy turned red, realizing what “Claudia’s” was. [An anonymous pamphleteer claimed in 1858 that there were 350 prostitutes in Hobart, one in sixteen of the female population. In 1999 there were twenty brothels with up to fifteen prostitutes in each in Hobart, Launceston, Burnie and Devonport, and a further hundred prostitutes working independently from suburban homes and hotel rooms, a total of approximately three hundred prostitutes.]
Louise
- 03.04.2020
- 24
- 0
