Note from jolly Roger

oldbilbo

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Ella Trout III on May 27
Fri 27 May 2016 15:34
A Swallow Came to call

Thursday PM

I was sitting in the conn (my seat on the top step of the companionway) and because it was so beautiful after what we had had over the last three days I thought I'll just record how different it is tonight for tomorrows blog it wil ony take a minute. Well it was beautiful; I was eating a well earned Ella Trout hash after a major clean up, we were 'sailing by', the sun was sinking into the sea and the sky was blue with a few white clouds. All very pleasant and so different to the previous days and that was to be it.

I finished the first half of my hash, they last two days if I'm lucky, climbed below and started to wash up. When I turned round there was a swallow sat on the back rail, went for my camera but when I got back he had gone. The wind shifted and I had to tack. Going back up I disturbed the swallow who was sitting under the spray hood, again I thought he'd gone. Completed the tack came below and there he was swinging precariously on a coat hanger.

The wind is all over the place and I had to tack again; it is now dark and when I came back into the cabin he was asleep on the back of the saloon settee. As I type he is right by my shoulder and above where I sleep. I'ii try and share my bed with him and hope he's rested and ready to go in the morning. I presume he got caught up in the storm flying north and got swept west, then south to end up in the middle of the Atlantic between Europe and the Azores. It's a mixture of desparation and trust on his part but I must say it's all pleasure on mine.

Friday AM

Overnight the wind had stayed steady allowing me to sail a bit north of west, the swallow had disappeared and I got good sleep. The wind came up with the sun and we are back to the old routine - strong head winds, bouncy bouncy - and that is how it looks all the way to the Azores. It is depressingly slow progress.

I went to write up my log and there were swallow droppings on the log and charts. The little devil left his calling card I thought; not so! I keep a sponge on the floor for mopping up and there he was sat on the sponge, I could so easily have stood on him. I lifted the sponge with him on it and he #obviously wasn't so good. He scrambled on to my bed, left another parcel on my pillow, then nestled into my bedding and quietly died. We had a burial at sea with full honours. Very sad after coming all that way.
 
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