This tale is based on a true story - some of you may have been online when Captain Hamilton met 'The Edge of the Map' but this is the story of what happened. (I have borrowed a old friend from Captain Pugwash for this. Hope you dont mind. Well Sit back, relax and enjoy - (read in a loud American B movie announcing voice)
‘Captain Hamilton and the Edge of the Map’
The battle was not progressing well. An engagement with 2 groups of 3 Pirate sloops had not been resolved quickly enough, and more sails were brooding on the horizon.
‘Fire’ yelled Hamilton as he wrenched the wheel back to set the ship on a parallel course to the Pirate sloop off starboard. A ripping broadside followed, and to the cheers of the men the pirates jib collapsed onto the deck, causing the sloop to veer away form the Honourable. Hamilton shouted over the racket - ‘Take the wheel, Master Bates’.
Moving to the rail he looked down at the toiling crew, and yelled out ‘Damage report if you please’. A man Hamilton remembered as Mr. Luxury – Yacht spat and looked up. ‘We be taking on water Cap’n. Hulls ruptured on all sides and the custard has gone everywhere – ouch!’ – the last word uttered as a midshipman hit Mr. Luxury Yacht sharply on the head with an oar.
Producing his telescope, Hamilton cast his gaze to the horizon where the incoming ships had been spotted. Quickly, and cheeks reddening, he snapped it back down. ‘Sir?’ quizzed Master Bates.
‘Um. They are rather close. And I think one of them was making a bit of a…you know…obscene gesture. Or sign language for ‘Please to fondle my Aunts baguettes. Either way, I fear the French like never before’. Hamilton shook his head, dislodging Erik the mouse, who had taken to living in his powdered wig.
Hamilton turned and went back to the wheel. ‘What do you think Master Bates, I’d value your judgement’. The old sea dog smiled, and bit the ear of a passing cat. ‘I say we fight sir!’
‘Incoming!’ yelled both lookouts on either side of the ships rigging. The Honourable shook to a thunderous assault from both sides, causing a fountain of splinters and the launching of Mr. Luxury-Yacht into the rigging.
Master Bates looked sheepishly at his Captain ‘Better part of valour, sir?’
Hamilton caught his eye. ‘Indeed’ and then turning to the crew Captain Hamilton yelled ‘Discretion!’
With a well practiced hand, the crew ran out full sails, and put the wind to aft. The rear guns were run out, and the Honourable began to build up speed. ‘Make what repairs you can, but best speed if you please’.
Ducking the occasional shot or splinter from the ships to the aft, Hamilton gazed out, gripping the rail and pondering how best to insult the French. He didn’t like running away, but he didn’t like swimming either, and that strange gesture the Frog had made kept coming back to haunt him. He shuddered.
The Honourable shook, as the chasing ships heaved to, fired a quick broadside and resumed pursuit. Master Bates sidled up to the Captain. ‘I wish you wouldn’t walk like that’ said Hamilton. With a grunt, the seaman removed the fish from under his arms and straightened his knees. ‘Sorry, sir. Thought you needed cheering up’. He spat some tobacco. ‘Speed is building up, think we might make it to Jenny bay Sir. The aft hull is riddled and we are taking on water faster than we can pump it, but if we can keep this speed up’
Just then, it happened. It happened really suddenly and a lot of it went over the gibbering Mr. Luxury Yacht clinging to the mast. With a great shudder, the ship stopped dead in open water. Hamilton and Master Bates were flung to the side rail and crew, cannon and surly enough, custard mixed in the main deck. Righting himself, Hamilton yelled ‘what’s going on?’ Those crew who weren’t sticky rushed about pulling ropes and yelling, while Master Bates did what he did best.
The cannon fire was getting more frequent as the pursuers got nearer. ‘Its not fair!’ Wailed Hamilton, pouring over a chart in his quarters, as a cannonball sailed through the window and hit his cat. There are no reefs, no wrecks, there damn well is wind but my sails are dead!’ He sobbed into the remains of his cat. ‘Im stuck in the middle of the open sea. My hope is with my experienced crew. How can this happen. Maps have no edge! At least. Ahem. Not in the middle.’
The ‘experienced’ crew were also perplexed. All their careers, when they pulled the ropes, things generally happened. Ropes were pulled, but nothing happened. There was much shuffling of feet and whistling aimlessly. They were extremely embarrassed. It was left to Master Bates, now cleaned up, to tell Hamilton the news.
‘Thing is, sir, we aren’t really sailors. Most of us used to be in the Village choir in Llamberefey. Well. Jimmy is a sailor. But we only brought him cos he has a lovely singing voice sir, Just lovely.’
Hamilton looked up, eyes red rimmed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you little dogs pizzle?’
Master Bates looked confused; ‘Well sir, you seemed to be having so much fun. And usually when we pull ropes…things generally happen’
The ship shook to another thunderous blast. Then, suddenly, Hamilton knew what to do. It was brilliant. Perfect. He giggled, and drooled a bit.
He sprang up. ‘Crewman of the Honourable! You know how to sing! (resounding Yes! From the men) but do you know how to make this gesture?’
Hamilton echoed what the Frenchman had done.
4 Crewmen passed out, 5 burst out laughing and one just burst.
‘Ooh yes sir’ said one crewman who up until now had not said enough to deem me naming him. ‘Fancy a gennelman like yourself knowing that’
‘Right’ said Hamilton. ‘Top deck! And my dress uniform if you so please!’
SO, as the readers eye slowly draws back, let them take in all the precious details. There is a ship in open water, being circled and slowly shot to pieces by 7 Jamaica sloops. On the top deck of the sinking ship, is the remaining crew with a chorus of deep welsh voices singing ‘There’l be a welcome in the Hillside laddie’, whilst standing on the top of his cabin, Captain Hamilton and his first mate made their last stand, making frantic gestures at each circling ship, and then collapsing convulsed with laughter.
The H.M.S Honourable was lost at sea with all 160 of her hands.
A letter from the French Government was later received asking that ‘that naughty thing with ze hands to be repeated not. My Aunt is not nor was ever a baker’
Messr. Bonaparte
Subject: Captain Hamilton and the Edge of the Map! 
Mon Feb 18, 2008 5:58 am
