A Violent Tale Of The Sea

The small seaweed craft  rocks violently in the water.

Louis-Claude de Freycinet and Captain Louttit sniff the weather.

Sniff sniff.

The weather is bad for our voyage, says de Freycinet. And the winds are south westerly.

Captain Louttit regrets his decision not to stick with the bicycle.

A fishing boat chugs by, in a northerly direction.

The seaweed bobs up and down.

This is lucky, says Captain Louttit. Shall we latch on?

Too late, says de Freycinet. It's passed us already.

We could put up a sail, suggests Captain Louttit.

I don't have one, says de Freycinet. I never leave Great Oyster Bay.

Come on, man, says Captain Louttit. Don't be defeatist.

I'm not being defeatist, says de Freycinet. I have an idea. Help me turn the boat over.

They shift their weight around until the twisted seaweed rolls over, yellow stalk upwards.

Now, says de Freycinet. Hand me a knife.

What a good plan this would be, if Captain Louttit had a knife.

All right, then, says de Freycinet. We'll use our serrations.

They rip at a leathery frond with their claws until it loosens. Captain Louttit wraps it round the yellow stalk mast.

The southwesterly wind picks up and they are blown northwards.

Don't ask me how this works.

It's..... vectors.

.......

The others are now in St Helens, and it's lunchtime.

They have met up in front of the Blue Shed, a fine seafood restaurant.

But Schopenhauer doesn't feel like seafood. Not lobster, not oysters, not squid.

He orders chips, and that's what they all have, since he's paying.

They all eat their chips.

Now let's go and see Bay of Fires, says Unni. It's meant to be gorgeous.

They leave their bicycles at the pier, and walk down to the beautiful bay.

Ahhh! What a sight it would be in the summer.

Azure water, dazzling white sands, and large rocks covered in bright orange lichen.

Today it looks slightly less gorgeous.

The sea is whipped up to a grey fatty soup by the gale and the sand is stinging. Only the rocks are still orange.

Gaius goes over to have a closer look.

Yes, it is indeed orange lichen. What more can you say? It is orange. Except for this yellow bit here.

Come and see this, Schopenhauer old chap, says Gaius. I've located a yellow bit.

Arthur and Unni have gone off in disgust. They clamber up on a rock and look out to sea.

Wish I had a boat, says Arthur.

You do not, says Unni.

........a wild plank escorted by black seahorses, says Arthur, moving forward.

Is that a poem? asks Unni.

But Arthur has no time to answer.

A shipwreck is occurring before him.