Banner Flying, They Set Off Whaleward

And so our intrepid crew are all in an open whaleboat, with one harpoon (and a toaster modified to function as a knife launcher) between them for whale-killing weaponry. In a high-tech world, they choose to go non-tech. There's something admirable and noble in the venture... and possibly foolhardy.

There's quite a snappy new banner at the top of Gus' journal that directs new shipmates to begin at the beginning and catch up to current events on and around the (what's the dratted name of the latest vessel? Ah!) Georgette. I fear, however, that new people are being directed to the beginning of a whale-killing yarn nearing its end, for how can they possibly survive this challenge (without hopelessly tangling the narrative threads of said yarn)?

Strangely enough, it seems after all these months we have come to the wickedly sharp point of the tale - hardened, resolute men in a small boat, going out to do battle to the death with Leviathan.

As for their motivations, it's been clear from the beginning that Gus wishes to wreak revenge on the bloodthirsty rogue cetacean what et his limb and kin. The reason why the others are so heavily invested in the enterprise is less obvious.

Flarq and Thesaurus, being old-school whalemen, have a skill-set that has almost become extinct. In fact, they may be some of the very last true harpooners on the globe, other than a few Inuit and Northwestern Pacific Coast indigenes. They simply wish to see the deed done proper and with honor. They are stalwarts in every sense of the word, giving Gus their full support. That is, when they are not believed to be dead and very nearly buried at sea (Flarq has managed to avoid this complication thus far).

Moses is a thrill junkie. For him, it's either this or work as a bouncer on the "Maury Povich" show - even with wretched living conditions, the likelihood of being hung by devout Cetaceanists, and being thrown into the vilest jails in the Caribbean, whaling still has better hours. Plus the tips are, as he says, "da kine."

Duq is handy to have around if you need a psychopath with a cleaver (oh, dear, that was inadvertent. Beg pardon). Bit of a loose cannon in that department (viz. the incident where he tried to cut off some MORE of Gus' arm - see line 1 above also), but in his way reliable. As in, you can always rely on him to go off screaming and waving dangerously sharp cookery implements at the drop of a scrimshaw, so best p'int him in the direction of your enemies before letting gravity get the scriven whale tooth.

Nelson - well, charming rogue though he may be, he is an opportunist. He occasionally seems to be caught up in the spirit of things, but his mind is constantly straying to the main chance, and improving his standing with "the ladies." And, of course, increasing the size of his ever-burgeoning collection of "pix!" I'm not certain, but I think he's only in it for the bragging rights, to lend a hand (just the one now), and possibly for revenge-motivated reasons of his own.

Amongst the human (or near-human) complement, this brings me to Bob. Ha, ha, I jest. This actually brings us to Stupid George. Some how he has managed to both survive and achieve Employee of the Week at least once (silly me, he always survives, it's EOW he's only achieved just once). He appears to fill the role of buffoon - every cruise has to have That Guy that ends up doing all the scutwork jobs. However, he has hopes and aspirations of his own, which is quite comforting in its completely rockheaded way.

And last of all, dear little Bob, whose post-battle convalescence in hospital on Conch enthralled the female shipmates, causing a fair amount of consternation and resentment amongst the human complement of Gus' crew, and tied up the Conchan post office with gifts of pillows and cheese for weeks. Yes, even dear little Bob (AKA "num-nums" according to my estimable barmaid-cum-pub manager snuggs) may yet have a role to play other than simply as a pet for "the ladies" to coo over (but you must admit his widdle pink earses and buttony-wutton nose am very sweet with 'iddums widdle whiskers...URK!)

Pardon. Fortunately, I had an insulin self-injector handy.

So for now they row versus waves that break over the bow of their little craft, fighting the tide, the current, the very movement of the oceans of the earth against them. Indomitable to the last, very stubborn, and fighting for their way of life (such as it is) they go on. So long as Gus can maintain some sort of Interweb thingy connexion, we wait with breath abated (no fish were harmed in the making of this jest).