Skipper Ruari

The world was an endless canvas of blue with the cloudless sky intertwining with deep majestic blue of the warm ocean water. Skipper Ruari watched his otter crew from his position as steer’s beast of his vessel The Salty Dog. Yawning loudly ruari spied Fergal the stout otter cook burst from his galley rubbing his eyes vigorously “confounded bairn tossing around hotroot like a festive frog”. Ruari chuckled to himself before hailing Fergal “Ahoy! Me ol barrel bottomed beauty how’s them vittles a coming along” fergal smoothed out his apron and rubbed a paw over his eyes before replying. “Oh, mate they be coming along just fine if in that young rip bairn would stop trying to slay me with ingredients”. Bairn popped his head out of the galley long enough to comment on Fergal’s complaint “I’ve told yer time and again ye old plank tail keep your mask on when I’m measuring out hotroot, tis yer own fault for letting the pepper get into yer eye’s. Ruari laughed uproariously at the pair “that son of yours will have ye run out of yer galley in no time mate”. Fergal puffed up his chest proudly “right ye are mate their ain’t a beast alive that can cook up a pot of skully n, duff like me ol… AHCOOO”. Fergal’s boastful rant was interrupted by a series of sneezes caused by the fiery spice. Before fergal could compose himself again a yell came from the otter ruari had posted as look out “ahoy, salamandastron ahoy”! Ruari could see the monolith far off in the distance as he began issuing orders to his crew. “Avast me hearty’s unfurl those sails, grab some of those long oar polls, move yer rudders I won’t stand no beast slacking like a flock of dawdling ducks, bend yer backs yer…… Yyyaaaaaaa”! Ruari’s mate a tall slender otter mother named Pamela had stomped a foot paw down on Ruari’s rudder. She scowled at him scornfully rocking a small sleeping otter babe in her arms “wake any of the little ones and it won’t be cold supper you have to worry about it will be me”. Relinquishing the tiller to one of his crew ruari hugged his wife fondly “Pamela, me ol plum pudding don’t fret yer pretty head I’ll make sure the crew stays a silent as a bad guest at breakfast” kissing her quickly ruari dashed off to help the rowers. Pamela aimed a kick at his retreating back side “ye great fat bottomed fraud be off with yer this instant” (to be continued...)

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