When rains Arrive beating Winds howl and fences creak Be thankful for prescious moisture Cloud born Water While at times falling – unwelcome Still is a life giver The Spring picnics Can wait
After an April with near drought conditions, I was glad to see much needed rain. Yet all across social media people were complaining that the May Bank Holiday was a “wash-out.” This despite the fact that the pandemic is still a very real thing.
The crew of the Red Vengence were a bit surprised when Captain Skull returned to the vessel accompanied by a sailor named Jon Farthing. It was the captain’s usual practice to kill all those that had gone ashore to bury his plunder. But this time there was a survivor that might lead others to the booty.
Three months later, Skull was arrested by officers from a French frigate while ashore to procure provisions. At that, first mate, Hal Scallion decided the buccaneering life was becoming to precarious with British, Dutch, and French navies now patrolling the Caribbean. He ordered to Vengence to the atoll where Skull had last buried loot and told Farthing to accompany him ashore.
As they left the dinghy, Scallion handed Farthing a shovel and told him to recover the chests. Farthing scanned the beach and did some mental calculations and the proceed to a point in the sand and began to dig. After over an hour, and with nothing had been revealed, Scallion shouted, “Farthing are you a dullard? Have you forgotten where you buriied the booty?”
“No Captain,” the youth replied. “T’was ten paces from the seal on the right. I am sure of it, I am. Captain Skull telled me that I was to burn it in me mind, and if ye asked, I were to tell ye just that.”
Hans-Dieter Jäger, aka Jon Hunter waited on the embankment across from the Houses of Parliament. He had been operating in London for about a month and his cover as a disabled veteran of the Great War seemed intact, it being true, he having served in the Bavarian Infantry. Though he had lost a leg in that war, he was proud to now once again serve the Fatherland. His English was good, and he had mastered a sound West Country accent. His prosthetic leg also aided in his back story, not to mention its usefulness in concealing messages.
He glanced at his watch and threw a few breadcrumbs onto the coping stones and watched as the gulls and pigeons gathered. It was the perfect way to cover the arrival of the particular pigeon he was expecting.
Sure enough, the bird arrived about ten minutes later. He approached it and removed his instructions from its leg.
He stared in disbelief at the piece of paper which was written in English and merely said “Turn around.” There, Hans-Dieter found himself face to face with a MI5 agent and two policemen.