|Smith on the look-out.|
It's been a foggy, cold day. Visibility at its worst was about .25 miles. We are pulling into dock now, and I feel a little bad, not helping. But they have plenty of hands on deck. I asked Smith where her period Foulies were, and she flipped me the bird. I think she would've flipped me the bird no matter what, but Cap is out there with nothing on but a frilly white shirt and vest. About ten minutes ago, it started raining.
Nevertheless, Bly got permission to load his largest charges yet. Because after we arrive in Marblehead, Bly will leave us. Seems like just yesteday when I was introduced to him in the foc's'le, his arm halfway down into a gap in the boards, trying to rescue his cell phone. I think I speak for the whole crew when I say he will be dearly missed.
Sometime in Marblehead we'll get our new captain, who will take over until the boat is through the St. Lawrence. Smith and Captain Flash have been talking about him for so long that he's acquired a somewhat mythical status. I feel like I have to name him Zeus or something. He's apparently strong as an ox, smart as a tack, and such a good sailor that Cap said she'd sail under his command anytime, anywhere.
|Bly calling out to the masses gathered on a nearby hill: Prepare to fire!|
Oatmeal with apples and cinnamon (I don't know why I make oatmeal - they never eat it)
Southwestern pasta, with kidney beans, chorizo, ground beef, veggies
Bread in a pot
We're getting a welcome dinner at The Landing!