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“It’s hard to sing a medley of rousing sea shanties when you’re stuck in the crow’s nest.” – P.D.
The open sea isn’t a very interesting thing to stare at all hours of the day and night, especially when you have poor eyesight. I sat there and attempted to make conversation with Zippy while I glanced out at the ocean, rotating where I sat every few minutes to make sure I could view the entire blurry panorama of the seemingly endless ocean. When exhaustion set in, Zippy stepped in for—and on—me, so she could continue to watch the ocean as I slept.
Before we get too far into the voyage, I feel it’s necessary to note that there are long gaps in my retelling of events. That’s because not much happened. In my defense, it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re in a four-foot square platform at the top of a mast. I’ll hit the highlights to keep the story moving. During those long hours spent watching the sea drift by around us, I retreated to my mind and thought a great deal. I laughed at old memories and thought of my family. It had been a long time since I’d last contacted Mum and Paps back in Rinky-Dink. It had been even longer since I’d heard from Sammy and the kids in Annapolis or wherever they’d moved to. Zippy was my anchor, to use a nautical reference. She stuck with me through all of those lonely moments in the crow’s nest. Like most children, Zippy didn’t have much of a choice, but we made the best of it. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.
Speaking of my nagging fear of losing Zippy, one night I awoke to find my mule daughter leaning precariously over the railing of the crow’s nest. She was at the end of her lead, and the knots were starting to loosen as she tugged on the rope. I followed her wide eyes and saw that she was staring at what appeared to be blue flames rising from the pointy part of one of those things the sails are tied to. Zippy’s tongue lolled from her mouth as though she wanted to lick the flames. Reaching out a hand, I held her back to ensure she wouldn’t fall, and we both stood there, staring at that wispy blue flame for hours. In hindsight, I probably should’ve informed the crew of the fire, but it was a magical kind of fire, leaving no damage when it faded from view. After that incident, I tied Zippy’s lead a bit tighter every night for her safety.
Don’t even get me started about the storms—too late. The rain would start crashing down with no warning and wouldn’t cease for days. In the crow’s nest, Zippy and I didn’t have much shelter to speak of. However, we didn’t have time to think about being cold and soaked. We were too busy using the various pails we’d accumulated in the crow’s nest to bail out the structure before it overflowed and sent us careening to the ocean below. Lightning bolts would flash all around us as I bailed water and Zippy splashed about. By the lightning’s illumination one stormy night, I saw big splotches in contrast to what I knew were ocean waves. It had to have been whales swimming alongside the Alliance. It was one of those moments when you wished you’d brought your art supplies and had even a tinge of artistic ability.
Now that I’ve given you a taste of the more exciting moments in the voyage, here are a few of the mundane points, so they aren’t lost to posterity. I sat in the crow’s nest as the sun beat down on my head. It’s a strange sensation to be sunburnt and freezing cold at the same time, but that’s what I was. Up, down. Up, down. The waves splashed against the side of the ship. I’d look down at the men lounging about on the deck with nothing to do. Meanwhile, up in the crow’s nest, it was the same old rocking back and forth, watching the same farthing I’d found in my pocket slide across the platform and then back again. Have I made you seasick yet?
A handful of times, I genuinely believed I’d spied an enemy ship. With my lungs full to bursting, I’d bellow down at the men, “Prepare yourselves, an enemy ship hastens to join with us in battle!” The blobs below would begin frantically running about the deck. However, when we’d fired some warning shots and sailed a bit closer to the object, it always turned out to be nothing. When my eyes could focus well enough to realize my mistake, I’d explain away the situation by shouting down, “Just keeping you landlubbers on your toes, that’s all.”
Several weeks into our voyage to France—did I mention we were heading to France? Anyway, I heard a commotion on the deck below one moonless night. I peered out of the crow’s nest and cast a squinting gaze at the deck. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I saw a handful of fiery blobs—torches and lanterns—being waved about while people shouted what sounded like gibberish. The next evening, when Reg arrived for mealtime, I asked him about it. “Reg,” I said, “What happened last night? Did the crew hold an intervention to confront Captain Pierre’s excessive drinking of saltwater?”
“Oh that? No, the captain found out about a mutiny some of the crew were plotting. Everyone involved is chained up in the hold for the rest of the voyage. Have a good evening!” Reg’s torso vanished again. A part of me wished Zippy and I’d been down there to witness the confrontation. It would’ve added a bit of excitement to our naval adventure which had seemed interesting at the outset but had turned out to be boring at best. I consistently reminded myself of the importance of the crow’s nest position, chanting a mantra I made up, “Sticks and stones will break their bones if you’re not here to warn them.”
Luckily, I didn’t need to see France to know we were getting close. I could smell the cheese and long breadstick things from several miles out. Eventually, I spotted a green blob on the horizon and cried, “Land ho, fellow mariners! Our journey is over. Even now, France sits proudly on the horizon, raising a glass of wine in welcome.” A cheer rose up from the crew below. I also heard a muted, metallic clanking sound. It must’ve been the men imprisoned below deck expressing their excitement.
We sailed into the port of Brest where we laid anchor. Leave it to the French to have some odd names for towns. What’s next? Ankle? That evening, when Reg brought our rations, his face was lit with excitement. While I had his attention, I asked, “Could you relay a message to Captain Pierre for me? I’d like to see whether Zippy and I can come down and spend time onshore, enjoying the smells and sounds of the French people.” The youth must've been in a hurry to get ashore himself. He raced down the rigging and returned a few minutes later with my answer. Reg threw his hand over the railing of the crow’s nest. It was a thumbs down. I was so disappointed.
While he was still within earshot, I cried out, “Wait, Reg! Could you bring me some parchment, ink, and a quill before you head to town and enjoy yourself while I languish in solitude up here? I’d like to write a letter to an old friend.”
Reg generously obliged. I’ve always appreciated his kindness as I look back on those days. When he returned with the supplies, Reg slung his arms over the lip of the crow’s nest and watched as I wrote the letter. With that quill, I penned a heartfelt note which, if memory serves, went a little something like this:
“Greetings, Frankl-B,
Guess who it is? Yep, your old employee and best bud, Pritchard. I’m currently in a place called Brest in France, serving aboard the Alliance. It’s a grand ship. I’m really taking to life in the Navy. You should come down and visit me for a bit. Fair warning, I’m forbidden from leaving the crow’s nest, so you’ll have to climb up the rigging to chat with me.
And don’t try to pretend to be all tough and send a gruff reply. You can’t fool me. I know it’s just an act. I’m sure you miss me terribly—as much, if not more, than I miss you.
- Pritchard O.J. Daviess”
When I finished letting Zippy lick the envelope, Reg snatched the letter from my hand and set out to mail it. I had no idea how far Paris was from Brest, but I figured it couldn’t be far. Here’s an odd coincidence for you. I didn’t find out until years later that Marky Lafayette had been on the Alliance during that same voyage. He must’ve been afraid of falling from heights too, or I’m sure he would’ve stopped by the crow’s nest to play a few hands of our favorite card games.
