Jack may have countenanced in his consciousness the onions and their quantity, indeed, he may even have been amused by them. The dirty water, however, for it was nothing if not dirty, leapt to his mind’s forefront, shoving aside any notion of onions, or anything else, vegetable or otherwise or indeed the swabbing of decks, for that matter, following Fat Pete’s addition, and in spite of Clancy’s reiteration. Gladly such states of single-mindedness didn’t tend to linger too long in Jack’s well-defined skull, but, perhaps even more gladly, major realisations reached during these states, as we shall call them, were moderately frequently remembered. Little Jack the scullion reached the following realisation: “The water acquired in Penitence at Pig Gantry’s insistence, and I couldn’t be more certain that coincidence isn’t so much as a shadow of a factor in this matter, is so dirty as to be, at very best, infected, but quite possibly poisoned in addition” Jack, wide-eyed to allow as much light as could be harnessed in the gloom of the galley to assist in thought processes pertaining to survival, reached the following conclusion: “By all possible means, I shall avoid drinking the water in question.”
This would prove to be more complicated than Jack might have hoped it would, but until he felt particularly thirsty he continued in his conversation with the other galley-folk without mentioning the seemingly fetid water.
3 comments:
I hope this isn't the last excerpt from the ever-eagerly anticipated 'Aboard the Ship the Sunday Morning' or 'Sunday Morning' as I call it for I have little other use for the phrase.
Naturally it won't be, Moxther. Fret thee not.
It was called "The Sunday Morning" once. Another time it had a much longer title, but I disremember what.
Post a Comment