Captain Billy: Ad Astra Per Aspera or Bust!

Author's Note: Ahoy! Follow along in Contests #180, #184, & #185. A sea change occurs for the Good Tugboat Samson and crew! Thing's get more messed up than a soup sandwich!

It was 0530 Monday morning on the Seattle waterfront. The Good Tugboat Samson was all fast and standing by Pier 17, their home dock. Captain Billy stepped out of his stateroom freshly showered, shaved and squared away. He was in a "Semper Paratus" mood for facing the challenges of this particular day. An earlier message from Seattle Dispatch said there would noontime visitors from The Company. Captain Billy assumed the worse that today's meeting topic was about his crew poisoning The Company Auditor last week .

Captain Billy went up to the wheelhouse. As by his usual habit he tapped the barometer mounted on the bulkhead with his finger. He mildly mused that perhaps today it could be more of a Magic Eight Ball and forecast a favorable outcome of the meeting . This instrument swiftly responded. The indicator needle fell of it's pivot and landed between the dial face and glass crystal. Captain Billy interpreted this, from the possible twenty Magic Eight Ball responses, as "Outlook Not So Good".

The barometer was too moody for his tastes anyhow, Captain Billy ruminated. Always up or down and so sensitive to outside pressure. You had to prod it to get it to do it's job. Not like his favorite nautical instrument, the magnetic compass. This stoic device needed no encouragement to silently preform it's duty. It seemed to him lately his crew were more like the prior, not the latter.

Repairs were in order for this sensitive and delicate meteorological instrument. This would require a very special tool. Captain Billy headed down below to the Galley to fetch the butter knife.

On his approach through the passageway Captain Billy could hear his crew jabbering away. As he entered the galley the lively conversation abruptly ceased as if someone had tripped over the power cord to a noisy jukebox. The quickest way to kill a galley table chin wag was to have the subject of the conversation to unexpectedly materialize. Captain Billy paid no heed to the trio of Mister Mate Mark, Chief the Engineer, and Deckhand Micky. This was the nature of the three headed "Smack Monster" that sometimes became incarnate at the galley table. It's vitriol yapping would put Cerberus to shame.

Captain Billy rummaged through the cutlery drawer and found the sought after butter knife. He turned to wordlessly depart. Mister Mate Mark then spoke, "So ahh, Captain Billy, we got some visitors today...". He was not sure if this was a statement or if it was a question. So Captain Billy answered obliquely, "Let's get some paint on the boat today, Okay." He continued on his way up to the wheelhouse to pursue his barometric ministrations.

Captain Billy whiled away the morning repairing the barometer with a few deft strokes of the butter knife . This task completed, he slipped the butter knife into his trouser pocket. He then turned his attention to polishing the acorn nuts on the hinges of the wheelhouse doors with a fragrant tuft of NEVR-DULL metal polish wadding. Captain Billy always tried to accomplish at least one task for the boat everyday. Shiny acorn nuts on the wheelhouse door hinges topped his list of priorities.

Captain Billy looked out the wheelhouse windows and he observed Mister Mate Mark and Deckhand Micky each with a bucket of paint and a brush in their hands. They were "gun decking" the boat. This term arose from when the gun deck on a warship was in disarray post battle and was hastily painted over to cover up the damage and blood stained decks that might affect the aesthetic sensibilities of the surviving crew. They demonstrated a sans canvas technique with an accuracy and speed that Jackson Pollock would envy.

From the passageway below an odor arose confirming Chief the Engineer was busy preparing the Lunch Meal or boiling soiled bed linen. The crew's morning labors met with his inner approval and eased his trepidations. Any earlier transgressions by his crew were simply forgiven and forgotten by Captain Billy.

The wheelhouse clock chimed seven bells proclaiming that the morning Six to Twelve Watch would be over in a half hour. The crew of the Good Tugboat Samson had pulled together. Every man jack aboard did their part to have a most productive morning. Mister Mate Mark and Deckhand Micky painting efforts had the boat looking shipshape and Bristol fashion. It was if they had "Covered the Boat" like the globe depicted on a "Sherwin Williams Paint" sign . The various pungent smells wafting about assured that Chief the Engineer had been very busy in the Galley whipping up a variety of his specialities to feed the anticipated guests. This soothed Captain Billy's mind, well almost. The noontime visitors from The Company were thirty minutes away. He went below to wash up for the Lunch Meal.

Captain Billy finished his ablutions and went outside . Three visitors were already standing on the main deck of the Good Tugboat Samson. Mister Mate Mark and Deckhand Micky had acted as ad hoc side boys to welcome this boarding party led by Port Captain Tortuga. He was a longtime company figurehead and well known to the crew. His job was the go between "The Office" and " The Boats". Port Captain Tortuga was once described as an ambush predator. One who would silently and without motion wait for an opportunity then swiftly pounce.

Glad handing introductions began of a Major Krimp and of a Sergeant Michael Finn. When Captain Billy shook hands with Major Krimp it was like grasping the tail of a cold, dead fish. When he shook hands with the Sergeant Michael Finn, who was a large fellow even by Captain Billy's standards, it felt like grabbing onto a bunch of Chiquita bananas. They were both dressed in similar powder blue uniforms. Not very nautical looking in Captain Billy's opinion. Chief the Engineer invited the guests to lunch. This offer of hospitality was declined by Port Captain Tortuga. He said they would stay outside as this meeting will be short and sweet.

The three visitors sat down on the top of the cap rail of the bulwarks. Captain Tortuga began his spiel. Long story short. Last week's Company Audit of the Good Tugboat Samson and crew was the highest score ever recorded in the history of The Company and for that matter in the entire maritime industry. This drew the attention of these two chaps whose outfit is suffering dire crewing problems at the moment. The Company has decided to lend this top notch crew of the Tugboat Samson to demonstrate to their outfit the proper way to operate a vessel. In addition the Tugboat Samson is to be mothballed and sent up "The Lake" this afternoon. Captain Tortuga concluded, "So, you guys can play house in the Winter. We need you now! Are you all in or are you all out?"

This was a classic "right now or never" time squeeze sandbag maneuver by Port Captain Tortuga. Captain Billy, Mister Mate Mark, Chief the Engineer and Deckhand Micky knew they had been sold down the river. However, the crew was all in for what ever the assignment was. This being settled, they were instructed to grab their seabags and report to the office in twenty minutes to fill out the paperwork. The meeting was concluded and the trio stood up to depart. Across the buttocks of all of their trousers was a big black stripe of fresh paint from the cap rail. The Good Tugboat Samson had given all three a souvenir parting gift of their visit.

The crew, no longer of the Good Tugboat Samson, were seated in the conference room in the offices of The Company at Pier 17. Port Captain Tortuga introduced them to a Doctor Dottore who spoke from the podium. He had a thick Italian accent. He conveyed of how impressed he was by the Company Auditor who had submitted a raving revue of this Captain Billy's crew. He had also mentioned in a sidebar to his report something about an impressive spaghetti sauce. However, he himself would preform a few tests just to independently verify these results. But rest assured, that it was a certainty the they all would be great "Specimens".

Doctor Dottore held up a picture from The Rorschach Ink Blot Test. "Tell me, Mio Marinai, whatta you see?" he asked the crew. Deckhand Micky spoke first, "Why that's a butterfly!". Mister Mate Mark contradicted,"No it ain't you dummy, it's a moth!". Captain Billy corrected the pair,"You're both wrong, that's a map of Little Koniuji Island in Twelve Fathom Strait up in the Shumagin Islands!". Chief the Engineer said in amazement, "Hey Doc, where the Heck did you get the picture of my Mommy and Daddy fighting?". Doctor Dottore wrote something in a little black book and said, "Molto bene!". He announced the testing was concluded. Doctor Dottore had found four perfect "Specimens".

This was not the standard Specimen Collection when called to The Office that the crew was used to. Mister Mate Mark asked the Doctor, "Don't yah want us to all, ah, you know what, into a cup or blow into a machine or something?". Doctor Dottore paused then explained, " Ah, Signori! My English no so good. I explain whatta I mean. In America you gotta da Astronauts! In da Russia you gotta da Cosmonauts! In China you gotta da Taikonauts! But in my home country of Italy we call them Space-a-Mens!, Capiche?" Deckhand Micky was still puzzled and asked, "Does this mean we're going to Italy?"

Port Captain Tortuga thanked Doctor Dottore for his efforts and he was excused from the remainder of the meeting. He then reintroduced Major Krimp who took over the podium. Major Krimp began his presentation.

This was the deal in a nutshell. He was not from a tugboat company. He was from a spaceship company. It is owned by Sir Elroy Muskie. One of his major operations was a mining concern in the Asteroid Belt between Mars and Jupiter and a cargo port on The Moon. Ore mined from the Asteroid Belt was flung towards The Moon where it was injected into a Lunar Orbit. His outfit had powerful "Space Tugs" to escort and assist these unpowered loaded "Space Scows" on arrival into a safe orbit that would eventually drop them on the surface of The Moon for further processing of their cargo.

For reasons unknown, there were mental problems with the crews of these "Space Tugs". It appeared that the isolation and tedium of working on Space Tugs was driving them loony. It is Doctor Dottore's diagnosis of these chappies that they are of the incorrect intellect and temperament for this type of duty. They are unable to adapt to their situations and need to be replaced as soon as possible. The actual job of operating a "Space Tug" is simple. A monkey could do it. That is why we thought that you fellows would be a perfect fit.

Major Krimp finished his talk and handed the meeting over to Sergeant Michael Finn. He would now handle the paperwork and all the other bumflappery. When a Mariner joins the crew of a ship for an ocean voyage, the crew and the captain of the vessel sign a document called the Articles of Agreement. When it comes to the law, nothing is understood. It was decided in the name of expedience to simply recycle all the old maritime traditions and rules of the Sea and apply them to Outer Space. So this piece of boilerplate was signed by the four "Specimens" and their crewing arrangement remained status quo. On the actual parchment document wherever the word "Sea" appeared it was scratched out and replaced with the word "Space". During the signing each "Specimen" had their thumb pricked with a needle and added a bloody thumbprint next to their John Hancock. The Sergeant remarked when the Deckhand signed his name, "Sometimes they call me Micky too."

Port Captain Tortuga then returned to the podium and simply said one word, "Outstanding!". He then proposed a toast to this brave crew, "Here's to adventure! After all, isn't this why we chose to be sailors?". Sergeant Michael "Micky" Finn had set up and filled four shot glasses with a green fluid. He gestured to the "Specimens" to partake and said, "Down the hatch!". Well, a sailor doesn't have to be told twice to have a free drink. Captain Billy raised his glass and said, "Here's to the Good Tugboat Samson and her crew! BRAVO ZULU". They all slammed their shots. Immediately the liquid took a soporific effect and each of the crew lost consciousness. The last thing Captain Billy heard was Major Krimp saying,"Good bye, good luck!.... Suckers!"

"Now we dolly back, Now we fade to black......." S. D.

The Good Tugboat Samson was tied up at Pier 17, Seattle. It was in a state of cold iron. Metal garbage cans had been placed on it's exhaust pipes confirming that it wouldn't be crewing up anytime soon. The harbor Tugboat Chief came alongside and did a three line make up on the hip. They radioed Seattle Traffic on Channel 14 VHF, "Chief with one dead tug alongside shifting from Pier 17 to Lake Onion storage. " Permission was radioed back and the Good Tugboat Samson was taken away to "Up the Lake ".

An elderly looking Seagull landed on top of the wheelhouse of the Good Tugboat Samson and settled down for the trip. All the while it was mewling and low squawking as if in conversation with an old friend.

Tune in next week for the continuing saga of Captain Billy and his crew!!