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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 01-June 12:06:31 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 4640
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Margarita XXXI
[time] => 2002-10-05 14:00:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Paloma lay six hundred feet from shore
where anchor holds and waits the morning tide. Ship carries forty thousand hides or more and needs to sail to reach the Eastern side. To double Cape is captain's goal and pride. Alcalde and Huerra tethered horses at the hide house. They noticed work, piled up for months, was gone. All was clean and deserted. Ocean smell was strong; gulls cried sounds looking for food, clouds continued to threaten rain. Cable's length out, square-rigged La Paloma lay at anchor - spars and ratlines naked, sails furled, pennant flapping. Men and four-oar were being lowered to bring then on board. Seamen in white ducks, red and checked shirts, leaned over the gunwale rubbernecking progress. Some, unmindful of weather lounged upon the forecastle smoking, talking or mending clothes. Yesterday, after weeks of back breaking work transferring cargo from shore to ship, hold had been finally filled with forty thousand hides needed to sail. Crew could be excused for indolence on grounds it was Sunday and they'd earned a rest. Captain Thompson welcomed Don Hernandez and Huerra on board. "Good day to you, sir. I hope the weather's not too much for you." "Not at all, Captain. How are things here?" "Shipshape and ready to sail when you give the word." [comments] => 1 [counter] => 201 [topic] => 31 [informant] => ramfire [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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