The Blaque Willow and Cat O' Nine Tales

By Captain Shea Sand Fafth

“The Blaque Willow”
“a rapier, dried leaves and a woman lost in time.”

“Cat O’ Nine Tales”
“a catamaran, mysterious sailing charts and a white wolf.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483591292

Book preview

The Blaque Willow

a rapier, dried leaves and a woman lost in time.

&

Cat O’ Nine Tales

A catamaran, mysterious sailing charts and a white wolf.

© S.S. Fafth 2016

Cover illustration by S.S. Fafth

All rights reserved. No part of this work shall be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author.

produced by S.S. Fafth, Mergames / Nauquatica

ISBN: 9781483591292

Table of Contents

Cover

Title

Copyright

The Blaque Willow

Day 0 - The Wedding

Day 1 - Away

Day 2 - first morning

Day 3 - Day Storms

Day 4 - No Storms

Day 5 - Dough'nuts' on the Spoke / Bed Clothes in the Wind

Day 6 - WET

Day 7 - Thoughtful Reflection

Day 8 - Strange Fate

Day 9 - Strange Fate pt. II

Day 10 - Siren Song?

Day 11 - Thin Fried Cat

Day 12 - Laundry Day, again

Day 13 - She Speaks

Day 14 - Lessons Begin

Day 15 - Live Steel

Day 16 - Conchs

Day 17 - Thread

Day 18 - Acknowledgement

Day 19 - Secrets

Day 20 - Decision

Day 21 - Sniveling and Solutions

Day 22 - Peace

Day 23 - Clarity

Day 24 - Q & A & A

Day 25 - SoWal, slow sailing

Day 26 - Pensacola, familiar waters

Day 27 - Passing Ship Island and Cat Island

Day 28 - Home and Fate (That word again. It's starting to bug me.)

Day - 1 - On Land

Cat O' Nine Tales

The Sandpiper

Legend of the Mermaid's Purse

Flying Fish

Diamonds of the Sea

Morning/Evening

Mirror Bay

The Glass Sea

Fog

Beachcombing (The Incident)

Newspaper Headline

Thank You

Coming Soon

The Blaque Willow

a rapier, dried leaves and a woman lost in time.

Based on an original idea by Philip Greco

for my Blood Children

The Drinking of Rhum

Under sail in wind and sun

While idle wants might seem to some

I make my course, Barbados run

And fane the drinking of the rhum

Retirement was now a reality for me and the freedom it presented was as exciting as my first day of swords and theories, but this day the students and Maestro (myself) gathered to share memories, tears and for some, great relief along with boiled crawfish, beer and music from the heart. A New Orleans farewell is like no other.

I began at the university as a young, dashingly handsome, Professor of Philosophy and Instructor of Fencing. An odd combination to be sure but the students needed, not only, a good face to look at but a place where they could ask the ultimate questions and almost immediately have those questions darted away with the sting of metal limbs. In philosophy, I was proud to be one in a department of four but in fencing I was alone. I was excited to have a fencing class with nine students in the beginning but as I place my tournament sabre in the big glass case beside the many trophies won by my students, which now numbered forty-three, I am bursting inside with pride and gratitude for these fine young people.

When I was a boy we lived in Italy while my parents were stationed there with the US Navy and I spent many exciting hours at the fencing school. It was a great beginning to a much-loved sport and with the sea already in my veins, from my Navy brat upbringing, I naturally dreamt of pirating and sailing as Captain of my own ship. I’m certain you can see the connection of those two subjects now and now, in my leisure years, I have the opportunity to do just that.

As fate would have it, it was in my fourth year of teaching when my girlfriend happened upon the plans of a 19th century schooner (circa 1860 to be exact) that she knew I would like and presented them to me as a birthday gift. It was a wonderful gift that she might have meant as a wall decoration but I took it quite literally and I began to piece my dream together almost immediately. I found a man who owned a small boatyard in south Louisiana and we worked out an arrangement for his young son, Rob, to help with the construction of my vessel (as apprentice shipwright) in exchange for a portion of the yard for my endeavor. Rob was a hard worker and later became one of my students at the university. A fair hand with a sabre, Rob made an easy choice for second in command when the newer fencers needed a bit of tutoring.

There were other helpful boys and girls who assisted in the building of my big wooden fish. A brother and sister from the arts department were thrilled to cast a sizable number of special bronze fittings with century old flair for my latches, ports and many other incidentals. Their work even won them extra credits and awards at the college. One friend of Rob’s, Will, was assisting off and on for a couple of years then came fully on board and was an enormous help, with all the signs of becoming a master rigger.

A magnificent undertaking this turned out to be. There were almost two dozen students and friends working with me to bring a resurrection to the pine and oak and other sleeping woods, and numerous followers (Our groupies) who came to photograph or sketch or donate boat nails and brass screws and deck prisms and sail cloth. There was even a group from the culinary college who showed up every Saturday and Sunday with fine examples of their gourmet delights to nurture our gastric and spiritual needs. And let me not forget those young men and women from the local trade school. Their woodworking, sanding and painting skills are now perfectly refined for all their future business enterprises.

All in all, my near 80" two masted vessel of liberty took 8 years to build with the consecrated hands of 23 stalwart young folks and advise from no less than 5 professional shipbuilders and support from the many adventurous wanting souls who surrounded us every day. I even spawned sailing enthusiasm in my short-lived but very romantic preoccupation with the always-endearing bioengineer girlfriend, Erika. (How’s that for a credit?) Work on both our parts has separated us. I miss her very much but I know she’s where she needs to be.

With all their skills and care my design had blossomed and she was a true beauty.

I christened her the Arctica in 2001 and took the lads and lasses on many coastal sails before Katrina came to visit in 2005.

During the latest reconstruction of New Orleans, I lived aboard my battered ship. For a year and a day, I pittered about fixing this and that, but like most, much more time