#at first they said they were investigating it for seaworthiness

[scotianostra]

David (Davy) Blair was born on 11th November 1874 at Broughty Ferry.

Blair was an employee of the White Star Line and had been originally earmarked to sail on The Titanic on it’s maiden voyage to New York, indeed he was second officer on the ship during its trial voyages to test the ship’s seaworthiness and the final journey from its place of construction in Belfast to Southampton, but a change in crewing lists at the last minute saw the second officer from Broughty Ferry taken off the passenger liner.

In his hurry to disembark the ship at Southampton docks, Davy accidently took a locker key with him. It was an innocent oversight, but one that likely contributed to the sinking of the Titanic. The seemingly innocuous key was in fact the key to the cupboard in which the crow’s nest binoculars and telescope were kept locked away. Titanic’s lookouts on that fateful night had no access to binoculars, and failed to spot the iceberg until it was too late.

He sent a postcard to his sister-in-law, writing: “Am afraid I shall have to step out to make room for chief officer of the Olympic. “This is a magnificent ship, I feel very disappointed I am not to make her first voyage… I hope eventually to get back to this ship.” But when he left Titanic on April 9, he would never set foot on it again.

The ship sank on April 15th after striking an iceberg, claiming more than 1,500 lives.

Investigations into the sinking of the Titanic raised lots of questions, including the obvious – why had the iceberg not been seen sooner?

It was believed Davy inadvertently hampered the ability of Titanic’s lookouts during the transatlantic crossing. The official inquiry heard from surviving crew members, lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee.

The pair told the inquiry they would have spotted the iceberg sooner had they had the means to do so.

When questioned how much sooner, Fred replied: “Enough to get out of the way.”

Davy kept the key as a memento and it was considered to be one of the most important artefacts from the Titanic.

He died at the age of 80 in 1955 and the key was passed on to his daughter Nancy.

It later sold at auction for £90,000 in 2007 and the proceeds were used to set up scholarships in Davy’s name.

Davy Blair went on to win gallantry medals later in his career. In 1913, when he was First Officer on the SS Majestic, he jumped 40-foot overboard to help save a crew member from the chilly waters of the Atlantic.

The ship was 700 miles from New York when a stoker from the engine room “rendered temporarily insane by the heat of the stokehold had rushed on deck, and in his frenzy thrown himself into the sea”. Davy, who had just come off duty, heard the commotion and “without a moment’s hesitation” dived from “the dizzy elevation” to the man’s aid.

A report about the rescue in the London Gazette at the time said: “On the morning of 6th May, 1913, whilst the Majestic was in the North Atlantic, a Fireman jumped overboard.

“Vessel was backed to the place where he was supposed to have gone overboard and after some time he was sighted close to the port bow.

“Starboard emergency boat was lowered but Mr Blair, fearing that the boat might not reach him in time, jumped overboard from the port side of the vessel, swam to a lifebuoy which had been thrown overboard, and endeavoured to reach the man with it.

“He did not succeed, but, although weakened by the coldness of the sea, he managed to point out the whereabouts of the man to those in the boat, who rescued him and then picked up Mr Blair.

“There was a fog prevailing at the time and the water was very cold.”

The act of bravery saw him awarded the Sea Gallantry Medal from King George V at Buckingham Palace in 1915 and a medal from the Royal Humane Society.

A total of nine medals awarded to Davy including an OBE, First World War service medals and his Legion d’Honneur – the highest French order of merit.

Pics are of Commander David Blair, and in the second left, packing scientific instruments for an expedition to the South Pacific.

#scotland #scottish #history #Titanic #Sailor

[what-big-teeth]

Bonded (Male Shark Merman x Female Reader, pt. 1)

As promised, here’s the first part of my newest story. The second part will be done during the long three-day weekend as long as things go to plan (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoy!

[part 2 (sfw)]   [part 3 (???)]

You heave the last of your carefully packed equipment onboard and celebrate with a long, well-deserved stretch. Of course, that leaves you somewhat wilting under the gaze of the ship’s graying captain, whose aid you denied out of habit. Just one of the many tendencies you picked up from moving around for work reasons for so long. And knowing Captain O’Neil for years, he wasn’t as strong as he used to be. You offer him a bright smile and all is forgiven, as you hoped.

“Welcome aboard, lass! I hope the long trip treated you well?”

Besides the cramped seats in the plane cabin and relentless turbulence, it was okay. Though you had to ignore the judgmental looks of the flight attendants as you swiftly pulled out your cache of snacks when dinner was served. But that's neither here nor there.

“It did,” you reply. “But there’s nothing like heading out on a seaworthy vessel.”

Captain O’Neil adjusts his peaked cap with a wizened, tanned hand and grins. Just like in your childhood, his laugh lines are deep and long. “Glad to still hear it! Your gran would always tell me about how you loved setting sail, even for routine checks around the island.”

You laugh fondly while settling on the cushioned bench at the boat’s rear.

It wasn’t just the sailing you adored. Seeing the sea life up close and personal; drinking in the bright greens, yellows, blues, of the surroundings corals and kelps. A handful of childhood memories stood out to you. A female sea turtle nesting on the beach; her babies hatching then crawling to the sea. A group of manatees gliding underneath your Gran’s still boat. Dolphins deftly leaping up and out of the surf to navigate the waters. And many more you reminisce about fondly.

But there’s one set of memories that remains your favorite; the reason why you work as a specialized marine biologist.

Meeting Triton.

As a child, the more your parents and Gran said ‘no’ to certain things, the more you disobeyed. Mainly out of uncontrolled curiosity and a hint of spite. So when Gran banned you from stepping foot into the basement during your season-long stay, a slow-growing urge started gnawing at you.

Regardless of her reminders and warnings, you couldn’t. But you tried at the start of that summer; oh, did you try.

You beach-combed in the mornings to expand your collection. Practiced swimming in the shallows in the afternoons. Searched the tide pools for the different organisms you learned about during cooler evenings, armed with a flashlight. But every night, the creaking from below—and what you swore sounded like splashing—interrupted your attempts to sleep.

Until you finally decided to investigate.

If you hadn’t been so antsy that late night, you would’ve noticed the open door to Gran’s bedroom and her empty bed. Instead, your eyes fixed onto the slight gap to the basement’s entrance as Gran’s dulcet voice pricked your ears. The sound was mingled with crying.

Soft hiccups and sniffles you knew all too well thanks to kids leaving class due to illness or sadness. They tugged at your heartstrings all the same.

Now past the entrance, a bluish glow beckoned you downward. You easily tiptoed around the noisier spots of each wooden step, having come down this flight of stairs countless times before. You huddled in a dim corner where the light didn’t quite reach, miffed about your choosing your lighter colored PJs. But even while seated on a tall stool, Gran hadn’t seen you. But the boy floating in the massive lit tanks did.

Light yellow eyes pinned you in place as the sniffling quickly stopped. The grayish, golden tone of his skin stood out thanks to the inky, black hair plastered to his face and shoulders. Through the curtain of hair, you could make out three, leveled slits on the side of his neck. Were they mirrored on the other side? And was that…a shark’s tail?

Gran cut short your observations with a cry of your name. She stood, moving towards you, but a small, clawed hand wrapping around her wrist kept her from going too far. Her eyes darted back and forth between the boy and you. Then she heaved a quiet sigh.

“No point in trying to hide, Hellion.”

Her usual nickname for you was a good sign; she wasn’t actually mad. But she did sound tired…and disappointed. You winced; that was even worse.

“Come on out and meet, well…”

You didn’t have to be told twice. As you approached the tank, the deep smelly tang of seawater slammed into your nose. The boy, meanwhile, sunk a little deeper into the water, watching you. You waved at him, but the boy didn’t reply; he only sank down a little more.

“What’s wrong?” Standing on tiptoes and looking at what you could see of his body didn’t reveal anything. “Is he hurt?”

“He was,” Gran gently withdrew her wrist and placed her hand on top of his head, smoothing his hair away from his blotchy face.

“Mr. O’Neil and I…we found some strange men hauling up a net close to shore. We had never seen them or their ship before.”

You nodded, mouth fixing into a thin line. The island community was far from the mainland, but thanks to this, everyone knew each other and did what they could to keep everyone safe. Including yearly visitors that came around to see friends and family, like you.

“We thought they were poachers,” she said. “Mr. O’Neil volunteered to stay and watch while I went to report them. But then, we heard crying.”

Gran turned her damp eyes to the boy in the tank. As he nuzzled against her hand, you pieced together the rest of her story. Gran and Mr. O’Neil managed to save the boy, who was probably hurt after being captured. And he was down here to keep him safe.

“What about the men, Gran?”

Her gaze narrowed in the boy’s direction, but he didn’t seem to notice; he was just happy to float underneath her palm with a little smile.

“Mr. O’Neil searched for them first thing in the morning, but he couldn’t find them. So until we know what to do, we decided it would be best for him to stay hidden.”

A sharp sensation pricked at your chest. It usually appeared when a random girl at school bragged about a new toy or gushed about having talked to the boy you really liked. Your voice came out too soft for your liking, but you had to say something.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

A warm grip enveloped your balled fist, coaxing it open. Gran squeezed your hand and sniffed. You frozen, your mind recalling the few times Gran cried. The most recent was at Grandpa’s funeral a year ago.

“Yes, sweetheart. It wasn’t because Mr. O’Neil and I didn’t trust you. If those men found you and thought you knew something, then they could’ve hurt you.”

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, sad at their choice even though you understood. And because you did, you were able to give Gran a huge grin.

“‘S ok,” you said, truly meaning it. “I won’t tell anyone and I’ll help you keep him safe!” Remembering your manners, you faced the boy and smiled at him. Again, he didn’t return it but knowing what he went through, you figured he could be rude for now.

“Hi!” you said. Then you introduced yourself. “What’s your name?”

No reply; just a slight tilt of his head as he let his body float upward to the edge of the tank. At least he wasn’t trying to hide anymore after seeing you.

“I don’t think he speaks our language,” Gran explained. “I’ve been using your old sea-themed picture cards to talk to him, but I don’t think he understands.”

“So he can’t tell us his name?”

Gran shook her head. “If he could, we could probably learn where his family is and what happened.”

“So let’s teach him!”

Gran stared at you, wide-eyed, her fingers skimming the surface of the tank’s seawater. The boy was now leaning against the edge of his tank, hands curled over the edges as he peered down at you.

“You helped me learn how to read really quickly and Mr. O’Neil used to teach English classes, right?”

Gran pursed her lips as her brows knitted together. “Well, yes, but…”

“No buts, Gran! You said that anyone can do anything they put their mind to; so if we try really hard, we should be able to help him.”

You would never forget the fond sigh Gran let out or the way her eyes lit up as she laughed.

“Alright then, Hellion. Let’s give it a try.”

-----------------------------------------------------

So you spent the rest of summer at Gran’s side, teaching Triton the basics of your spoken language. Luckily for you both, he turned out to be a quick study. Gran guessed he was a social creature, which was why he wanted to learn so badly. All so he could bond with all three of you. The importance of breaks with food and drink had to be instilled in him. Thankfully, he caught on after you started eating your meals down in the basement beside his tank.

While he internalized what Gran and Mr. O’Neil taught him, he focused the majority of his attention on you. This led to the strangest reward system you’d ever known. Anytime he was able to learn a new word, he got to hold your hand, lacing his slightly rough fingers with yours. If he understood the different meanings of any word, he requested a hug from you. And if he managed to construct a decently coherent sentence, well, Gran gave her permission for you to play with him in his tank after ‘summer school’.

It was during one of many playtimes when you learned Triton had no name. Instead, he and folks like him told each other apart with seven senses. Five of them were what all humans possessed; the other two were electroreception (it took Gran’s marine biology knowledge to understand what he meant) and changes in pressure (again, thanks Gran!).

As you two floated side by side, you took notice of the slight gradation of his skin from a gentle gray mixed with a warm gold. Then you tentatively asked if he wanted a human name. His immediate and bright “yes!” made you laugh and sink into the water in glee.

“I wish to need a name,” he said as you breached the surface.

“You wish to have a name,” you gently corrected. As he repeated what you said, one came to mind.

“How about Triton?”

“What means that? Try…tin?”

“Triton,” you said. “In human tales, Triton was a god of the sea. He was a prince and the son of a king and queen. He also had a fish tail and a human half, like you.”

Hearing his sigh of amazement, you continued, weaving interesting imagery of this Greek sea god and why your friend reminded you of him.

“So is Triton an okay name for you?”

“Yes! A good one!”

“Then it’s settled. Your human name is Triton.”

When he gave you a wide grin filled with small, sharpened teeth, you felt as light as air.

Thanks to the efforts of Gran, Mr. O’Neil and yourself that summer, Triton was able to tell you what had happened to him.

In defiance of his parents and family group, he swam too close to the surface. All so he could view the sunset from what he thought was a safe place. By the time he realized the danger he was in, he couldn’t do anything to save himself. But luckily, Gran and Mr. O’Neil were present to help him. The tears began to flow when he began mentioning his group leaving for different waters later that night.

It took a number of hugs and soothing words from you and Gran for Triton to continue. But he was finally able to tell you just where his family was before his kidnapping.

Gran and Mr. O’Neil excused themselves immediately after. Straining your ears over Triton’s hiccupping, you overheard the words “long shot” and “uncertainty”. Thankfully, Gran was willing to try, hopeful that Triton’s people had just as strong social bonds as he did.

In the end, it all worked out. Triton was finally reunited with his parents and sibling, who were wary of you three. But they allowed him to say his farewells after he spoke to them. And he drew out his goodbye to you as much as he could.

“I do not want to say goodbye…” he muttered, head drooping low.

Quickly, possibly too quickly for his family’s liking, you wrapped Triton in a deep hug, one he gladly returned. He buried his face into your neck, rubbing his check against your skin.

“Then, let’s just say see you later. You’ll come back next year for the summer, right? I’ll be here, too. So we’ll see each other again, okay?”

“Okay. See you later.”

The last few days of summer went by without incident. As time passed, you kept your promise to see Triton during the summer. You spent your time teaching him more of your language, exploring the island’s coast, and swimming in the shallows. The adventures you had left you exhausted but utterly happy by day’s end. And after his departures, you conducted research with Gran over the years. It all came to fruition one fateful, balmy summer day before you headed off to college.

Triton and the other Sea-dwellers weren’t new to this area. According to local legends, they came around yearly and even interacted with earlier humans, trading treasures found at the bottom of the ocean and tales for extra food and tools. And they were highly respected for their dual natures. But the passage of time and technological advancements changed this. As later generations forgot the tales, the Sea-dwellers were soon forced into hiding for their own safety. But that could soon change.

Which was why you were here.

Before Gran’s passing, you declared your want to follow in her footsteps. Which is why she left all of her research to you. Every story and possible recorded instance of interaction between the native humans and the sea-dwellers. Old yet cherished texts she thought would be useful on your educational journey. Her eventual hope was for you to slowly reintroduce the Sea-dwellers’ presence to the island’s public and government, then beyond its shores.

But you aren’t so sure.

“Land ahead, lass!” Captain O’Neil’s voice boomed over the roar of the ship’s engine and spray of the sea. “Welcome home!”

A thrill of warmth settles in your chest, entirely welcomed. Your second home. Where Triton is.

If there’s one opinion that matters the most—more than yours or Gran’s—it’s his.

Because when you’re with him, everything falls into place and you feel like you can do anything.

#merman #monster boyfriend #monster romance #exophilia #terato #monster lover #shark mermaid #hope you guys enjoy!

[sanguinarysanguinity]

The fate of the now-famous Ever Given cargo vessel continues to be newsworthy. While the 1300-foot-long container ship has been freed from its sideways grounding in the Suez Canal, it remains in the canal. The reason, you ask? Egyptian authorities say they want the ship's owners to pay a king's ransom to compensate for the week that the canal was shut down.

Osama Rabie, chairman of the Suez Canal Authority (SCA), said on Egyptian state television this week that the country will hold onto the ship while it investigates what happened and until the ship's owner pay $1 billion...

[...]

On board are 25 Indian crew members, and the National Union of Seafarers of India issued a statement that said the SCA and the boat's owners are allowed to investigate, but that these discussions should not create a piracy-like situation.

"If the SCA has suffered losses, they can sort it out with those involved with the ship but that cannot haul up seafarers in any manner," the National Union of Seafarers of India's general secretary told the Times of India.

That’s where it’s been sitting, ever since March 29th: in the Bitter Lake, halfway along the Suez Canal.

#ever given #suez canal #maritime #I've been watching this ship on vessel tracker for the last couple of weeks #it's been sitting in the bitter lake #(halfway along the canal) #and hasn't moved a jot since the day they unstuck it #at first they said they were investigating it for seaworthiness #but it seems there have been Developments

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 2

Stan’s head was full of cotton. He mumbled and buried his face into his pillow, wishing he could block out the world. Had he been hit in the head during gym class? He couldn’t remember, but that might explain the fuzziness in his brain and why his arms felt all weak and noodly.

Someone was talking to him, probably Ford, trying to get him up for school. Ew, school. Did he have a test today? Stan could have sworn there was one coming up but he never really paid attention to when. Not like studying would change his score much anyway. He had to squint to read the questions and it took him way longer than everyone else to answer anything at all. Pa said it was because he was stupid.

He didn’t want to go to school today. His head was all stuffy and he was tired. Was he sick? If he was sick maybe Pa would let him stay home. It was Ford’s schooling he cared about anyway.

But no, that would leave Ford alone all day! He couldn’t leave his brother with that stupid Crampelter. Ford tried to hide how the other kids picked on him when Stan wasn’t there, but Stan wasn’t a total idiot. He knew it got worse when he wasn’t by his brother’s side, fists clenched and rearing for a fight. They would take advantage of his absence to mess with his brother.

No, he’d have to go to school, for Sixer. Filled with indignation on the part of his brother Stan lifted his face from his pillow-

And froze.

He wasn’t in his room, on the bottom bunk while Ford leaned over from the top bunk to talk to him. He wasn’t in his room at all.

The bed he was on was big and messy with slightly grubby sheets. It sat in a weird room that looked like it was part of a log cabin, rife with random objects that sat on boxes or desks or were pinned to a corkboard on the wall. And there was someone standing over him.

Stan yelped and threw himself away from the reaching hand, only to topple off the bed and let out a pained cry when his elbows scraped the wooden floor. The person rushed around towards him. Heart pounding, Stan rolled under the bed and curled up as far in as he could get.

It was cold down here, and dusty, spider webs crisscrossing the beams above his head. Stan hugged his knees and gasped for breath.

Where the heck was he? Who was this guy? Where were Ford, and Ma, and his room and his house?

“Stanley?” A voice called. Deep and male and it sounded like Pa but not quite. Stan would have taken being alone with Pa over this. There was rustling as the person knelt next to the bed. Stan whimpered and curled up tighter. Maybe if he stayed still and very quiet, they would go away.

A man’s face peered into the shadows. His glasses reflected the light but – there was something familiar about those brown curls, the shape of his mouth, the concerned tilt of his brows.

“Ford?” Stan blurted. Ford – because it was Ford, wasn’t it, even though he was grown up? – nodded, seemingly at a loss for what to do. They sat there for a moment before Ford reached a hand towards him.

It was probably to help him out from under the bed, but Stanley took the chance to count his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six. Yep, this was Ford alright. He grabbed the huge hand and crawled out of the dusty shadows.

Ford was huge. He looked like an adult, Stan realized as he shook dust from his clothes and sneezed. He looked like Pa, but without the sunglasses and the scowl and the grey hair.

“What happened to you?” Stan demanded. “You’re all – big.”

Ford’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t made a move to stand up from where he was kneeling. To be honest, Stan didn’t want him to stand up – he didn’t like the idea of his brother looming over him.

“You don’t remember?” Ford’s voice was deeper than he was used to. It still sounded like a nerd’s voice, though, so that was something. Stan frowned.

“Remember what? This isn’t home. Where are we? And you – you’re old. What’s going on?”

Ford ran a hand across his face and groaned. “Okay. This is fine. So you reverted to a child in memories as well. Just – great.”

And then he stood up and started walking. Stan trailed after his brother as he sat at a desk and started writing in a big book. Stan wasn’t tall enough to see what he was writing.

“Uh, Ford?”

No answer. Stan stood there awkwardly while Ford scratched away in his book. He really wasn’t liking how – how weird his brother was being. He felt like he’d missed something big. But with the way Ford was acting Stan was nervous to ask, and that made him even more worried. Ford had never been this distant before.

“I called you here.” Ford said suddenly, making Stan jump. The nerd still wasn’t looking up from his book. “I needed your help hiding my journals. You came to my house. Do you remember that?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” A thought struck Stan and he blinked. “Wait, are we in the future?”

“In a manner of speaking, you are.” Ford sighed. “Listen carefully, Stanley. I asked you to come, so you could take my journal far away and hide it.”

“Why?”

“It contains very dangerous information. I have to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeah, that made sense. That kind of stuff was always happening in the new Sci-Fi show Ford loved. Of course, that was a show, but they’d seen weird things before. Like the Jersey Devil! Plus, if anyone was gonna write something epic and powerful and smart, it would be Ford.

His brother sent him an odd look out of the corner of his eye but continued.

“When you got here – you were my age then – we got into an argument. You knocked into one of my samples and got it all over you. Then you turned into – this. A younger version of yourself.”

Stan blinked. “I was old?”

“We’re twenty seven, Stanley ­– or at least I am. I was investigating water from the spring of youth, but I only came across it recently so I haven’t had time to work out how to undo its effects. I’ll have to get a new sample to experiment on, since you destroyed the only one I had.”

Destroyed? Stan rubbed the back of his neck, shame twisting in his stomach. “Aw man, bro, sorry I broke your thing.”

Ford stiffened. Stan rushed to continue, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“But you can – can get a new one, right? And I can help. And then we can do the thing you wanted, hide the book, right? It’ll be like burying pirate treasure! Oh! If this is the future, did we get the Stan O’ War fixed?” He vibrated with excitement. “Is she seaworthy? Do we go sailing?”

“I’m trying to write, Stanley.” Ford said stiffly, coldly. He’d never used that voice with Stan before. It was unnerving. “Why don’t you go downstairs and get something to eat?”

“Uh… okay. Sure.” Stan mumbled, subdued. Maybe the Stan O’ War could wait.

For the first time he noticed the state of his clothes – well, cloth, since there was only one piece – a too-big shirt that hung off him like a huge smock. He considered asking for a change of clothes. But if he used to be a grownup, they would probably only have grownup clothes. Plus, Ford seemed pretty upset and Stan didn’t want to bother him.

So he held his tongue and wandered out of the room, into the rest of the house. It was big, and super messy. Stan passed what looked like a – a triangle shine? – as he explored a room that may have been a lounge. He poked his tongue out at it. The grumble of his stomach seemed very loud in the quiet. Ford was right, he hadn’t even realized he was hungry!

Eventually he found the kitchen. An investigation of the fridge showed it was empty except a quarter-full jar of peanut butter. Well, better than nothing. Stan found a spoon among the dishes and shuffled over to the dingy table to eat. He had to brush a few papers away to make space.

Okay. So this was really weird. Definitely not scary though. Stan refused to be scared. Even if he desperately missed the security of home, of having his brother by his side-

But this Ford was his brother –  just a bit older. And wasn’t that good? Ford was older, he knew what was going on, he could fix it. Stan just had to wait for him to make things go back to normal. And wasn’t it so cool that his nerd brother would grow up to be a nerdy scientist? He couldn’t wait to go back home and tell his Ford the adventure he’d gone on.

Secure once again, Stan decided to investigate this weird place. His Ford would wanna ask a lot of questions about it, after all. He shoved a final spoon of peanut butter into his mouth and jumped up to explore.

There was so much weird stuff here! Stan had no idea what half of it did. Though, that was true of a lot of things. He peered into some kind of office room with a chalk circle on the floor and candles scattered around, before deciding Ford probably wouldn’t like it if he messed with his stuff.

There was a door that, once opened, showed a dark, yawning staircase stretching out below. Stan peered around for a light switch. Finding none, he shrugged to himself and decided to brave it.

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Stan’s breathing and the tap-tap-tap of his footsteps seemed uncomfortably loud in the enclosed space. A flickering bluish light lit up whatever was below. Stan squinted to try and figure out what it was.

He soon found out, however, when he ended up in some huge lab. The majority of the space was taken up by some gigantic structure, a big circle like the kind you’d blow bubbles with but surrounded with technology junk. It looked like something straight out of Star Trek!

“Whoa.”

Stan walked over to a console to stare at all the buttons. Did Ford know how to use this thing? Did Ford build it? Jeez, he’d always known Ford was the smart twin but this was epic. And if Ford could build this thing, between the two of them the Stan O’ War was gonna be the greatest ship ever!

Stan paused. He knew he really shouldn’t be messing with Ford’s stuff, but that big red button was tempting him. Surely it couldn’t hurt to find out what this thing could do?

Stanley bit his lip, tossing up his options. He was spared from having to make a decision by stomping footsteps and a shout.

“Stanley!”

__________________________________________________________

In hindsight, letting a child roam freely around a house that doubled as a lab and testing site was… not the smartest move to make. In Ford’s defence he had been distracted when he suggested it. Stan had started talking about breaking projects, and that stupid boat, and it took every iota of Ford’s self-control to not snap and yell at him.

He’s a child. He has no memories of what happened. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

After about twenty minutes of writing observations in his journal Ford had come to the conclusion that letting a child – even worse, Stanley – loose in this place could be dangerous. He closed his journal and descended to make sure he was staying out of trouble.

But Stanley wasn’t downstairs. He wasn’t anywhere Ford checked. With increasing distress Ford stuck his head outside to see if the child had ventured into the woods. No sign of him, and the thick layer of snow was untouched. But the only other place he could have gone was-

The lab.                                                                    

Ford cursed himself for not noticing that the door to the lab was hanging ajar. Stupid sleep deprivation! Ford stormed down the stairs, caught between fury and concern. What if Stan hurt himself?

When he reached the bottom, however, and found his brother staring at the portal’s controls, fury won out.

“Stanley!”

Stan snapped around guiltily. “Uh, hey, Ford-”

“What are you doing down here? This is my lab, it’s dangerous! You can’t touch anything!” Ford marched over and snatched his brother away from the controls. “What if you broke something? Or got hurt?”

Stan yelped. Ford tucked him under one arm and started back up the stairs, gritting his teeth.

“From now on you are not to come down here. Understood?”

“Mm hmm.” Stan mumbled. Once at the top of the stairs Ford placed him down to close and lock the door firmly. He turned back to Stan to continue the scolding, but… Stan looked like he was about to cry. His face was screwed up and he stared at the floor as if he could will away the tears that Ford could see gathering in his eyes.

A surge of guilt washed over Ford, which was ridiculous, because he had nothing to be guilty about. He sighed.

“Stanley, I…” What was there to say? “It’s late. I’ll set you up in the spare room.”

Stan sniffed and nodded.

  Luckily Stan had always been resilient, and he perked back up while Ford went about preparing the bed in the spare room. He hadn’t had visitors for so long that he’d started using it as a workbench.

This had been Fiddleford’s room, back when they had worked together. The thought of his old research assistant sent a spike of guilt through him. Yet another warning that he had ignored, and in the process he’d destroyed the one human friendship he had.

No, he didn’t have time to reminisce. Not with Stanley to deal with and the threat of Bill looming over him at any given time. Ford harshly shoved all thoughts of Fiddleford from his mind and threw a blanket over the bed. It wasn’t very thick but it would have to do.

He was lost in thought as he absently picked up his brother and placed him on the bed. There, problem solved. Ford had more important work to do. For starters, he had to figure out some way to get the unicorn hair he needed for a protective spell against Bill. Until he could put up the barrier it wouldn’t be safe to dismantle the portal, which meant Bill had a much better chance of figuring out how to get in and activate it.

He paused in the doorway to glance at his watch. What was the time, somewhere after midnight? Two-ish apparently. At daybreak he could try again to get the unicorn hair. But he also had to figure out how to cure Stan. Would it be better to leave that until after he had Bill-proofed his house? Stan would be in the way the whole time, but he would be less of an obstacle than he would be as an adult.

But then again, an adult Stan could drive away and be out of the equation entirely. While he was a child Ford was stuck with him. Also, adult Stan also might agree to take the journal when he found out that Ford had cured him. Yes, it was probably better to do that first-

“I can almost see yer ears smoking!”

The chirp made him jump. Ford whipped around to stare at Stanley, who was blinking at him from his spot on the bed.

“Ya were standing in the doorway looking blank for like, five minutes.” The child explained at Ford’s stare. “Watcha thinking about?���

Ford took a slow, steadying breath. “Truthfully? The situation I’m currently in. I have far too much on my plate, and very little time to deal with it.”

“Well, is there anything I can do?” Stan tipped his head. The action made him look rather like a puppy. Despite his tiredness and frustration, the sight made Ford’s mouth tip into a smile.

“I don’t suppose you can charm unicorns as well as you charm old people into giving you sweets?”

“Hey, I don’t make ‘em give me stuff, they just wanna! All I gotta do is play it up a bit.” Then Stan seemed to register the first statement. “Whoa, hold up. Did you say unicorns?”

“Yes, but believe me, they’re not quite as pleasant as the kind you’re imagining. And they very much dislike parting with their hair.” Ford’s lip curled. “Quite irritating, actually.”

“Where did you find unicorns?” Stan demanded excitedly, slipping off the bed to rush to Ford and grab his coat in chubby fists.

“The forest, of course. Gravity Falls is home to numerous creatures not found anywhere else in the world. Why do you think I moved here?” Ford couldn’t quite hold in a snort at the way his brother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen any gnomes already. They often sneak in to raid the pantry.”

“Are they here now? Can I see ‘em?” Stanley gasped out in a rush.

“No. I do have some sketches in my journal though…”

Stanley let out a whoop and darted past him. Ford watched him scramble up the stairs to where Ford’s room was. How did he… no, he’d woken up in Ford’s room, of course he knew where it was.

“Stanley!” Ford called after him. “Stan, you should be in bed!”

“I’m not tired!”

Oh, for the love of…

Ford sighed and followed, albeit at a slower pace. He had no idea how they’d had that much energy as children. It seemed boundless.

At any rate, he doubted Stanley would be getting to sleep any time soon, and he had to keep an eye on the child to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. At least his presence shouldn’t hinder Ford too much. Stan could draw or look at pictures or whatever children did while Ford worked on finding a cure.

“FO-ORD!” Stanley yelled. “Come on, hurry up! You got so many books here! Are there mermaids in this weird place too? Oh my gosh there’s mermaids aren’t there? Which one’s your diary thing? I wanna SEE!”

“Coming.” Ford huffed out another sigh and picked up the pace.

#gravity falls #stangst #rewind #chapter 2

[mageemoulton]

At a public meeting at Mount Meigs, Alabama, Aug.

At a public meeting at Mount Meigs, Alabama, Aug. The dew point is the temperature at which a given sample of air will have a relative humidity of 100 percent; hence, the saturation temperature. Common to the new Platinum Series products, the Escort 9500ci features built in Bluetooth connectivity for linking to the Escort Live ticket protection app. It all depends on how they transition from playing doubles to now playing singles. For Bratkowski, it hasn't been all long walks on manicured grass and the beach since leaving the coaching ranks, even though he lives less than a mile from the Gulf of Mexico. She had no memories of that Dragonstone, but she would not soon forget this one. The elk went where he would, regardless of the wishes of Meera and Jojen on his back. Jagga (Ranbir Kapoor) a curious and shy young boy in a quaint little town lives a happy life with his accident prone neve e sale amazonfather, Bagchi (Saswata Chatterjee). According to a recent study in Nature, led by Johannes Lelieveld, director of the Max Planck Institute for chemistry in Germany, more people now die from air pollution than from malaria and HIV combined. Chocolate heaven! Here's 13 classic Cadbury adverts

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[citylightsbooks]

5 Questions with Megan Fernandes, Author of Good Boys

Megan Fernandes is a writer and academic living in New York City. She is the author of The Kingdom and After (Tightrope Books 2015) and the new book of poems, Good Boys (published by Tin House). Her work has been published or is forthcoming in the New Yorker, Tin House, Ploughshares, Denver Quarterly, Chicago Review, Boston Review, Rattle, Pank, the Common, Guernica, the Academy of American Poets, and McSweeney's Internet Tendency, among others. She is a poetry reader for The Rumpus and an Assistant Professor of English at Lafayette College. She holds a PhD in English from the University of California, Santa Barbara and an MFA in poetry from Boston University. She reads from her new book Good Boys with special guests at City Lights Bookstore on Tuesday, February 25th.

***

City Lights: If you’ve been to City Lights before, what’s your memory of the visit? If you haven’t been here before, what are you expecting?

Megan Fernandes: Of all the places I’m reading this Spring (and it’s probably not politic to say this), I am most excited to read at City Lights. I’ve never been, but I understood at a very young age that the bookstore symbolized possibility, spontaneity, digression, lostness, community, etc. As a teenager, I read a lot of Beat literature, my favorites being Dharma Bums, In the Night Café, and everything Ginsberg. I was compelled by their portraits of America’s expansiveness. And I also just think as an immigrant kid not born in the USA, the Beats gave me some sense of American geography. I went to Colorado for the first time last year and I had this memory of my first impression of Colorado as a place described in On the Road. When traveling across the country, I often have Ferlinghetti’s feverish, twitchy, carnivalesque poetics in my head. I also think in this indirect way, Beat literature shaped some of my thoughts around feminist thinking as I was conscious of my orientation as outside certain privileges of the “male, womanizing adventurer” often romanticized in Beat lit. I had to interrogate what it meant to feel intimacies with Ginsberg and Duncan who were destabilizing masculinities and cultural logics of hate. 

And so what I learned from City Lights and Beat lit is really something about the relationship between myth-making and counter-culture communities. I’m understanding the truly expansive network of the movement in so much more detail right now while reading an advanced copy of a fabulous new book called The Beats: A Literary History by Steven Belletto. 

What are you reading right now?

I’m reading a book called Dapper Dan: Made in Harlem, co-written by Dapper Dan himself and my good friend, Mikael Awake. It’s a history of Dapper Dan’s iconic work in fashion, of course, while being really intimate. And it’s just as much a history of his family’s internal dynamics and, through his family, New York City at large. In particular, 1970’s NYC is so vividly, brilliantly wrought in this book.

There’s this one section where Dap is at Iona College at a lecture on protohistory and the professor, a Czech immigrant, tells the class that “In order for man to have survived during those ancient times… he must have had powers that he doesn’t have now. The only people that could possibly still have these powers today are the black and brown people on the planet” and when Dap hears this, he is transfixed. He says: “This is one of the most esteemed scholars at Iona College telling a packed lecture hall that black and brown people were the only ones on the planet who still had spiritual powers. How come this was my first time hearing about that? I looked around. I was the only black student in the class. I wasn’t tired anymore. He had my full attention… I said to myself, This is what I need to know. This is how I need to formulate myself.” I’m loving how the book captures these intense moments of transformation. I love that word choice: formulate. What poetic agency is modeled in that word? I needed that word the moment I read it. 

Recently, I’ve also read Samiya Bashir’s Field Theories and Edgar Kunz’s Tap Out. Samiya wrote this legitimately weird and imaginative book that feels like it’s made out of the time-space continuum. Some cosmic materiality is really showing up in that book. I remember this line: “A body. A zoo. A lovely savannah. Walls of clear, clean glass” and I’m just on a ride with the musicality of her shifting assonance. Plus, I know that writers like June Jordan and Toni Cade Bambara are operating influences/specters of the book and you can feel that energy. Edgar’s book is more narrative and quieter, but so devastating. I sort of get what makes his speakers tenderize if that makes sense. I think it’s the same phenomena that tenderizes me, too.

Some of my favorite novels of recent years includes A Questionable Shape by Bennett Sims, The Small Backs of Children by Lidia Yuknavitch, Sonora by Hannah Lillith Assadi, and very recently, The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead.

What book or writer do you always find yourself recommending?

I think Jean Toomer’s Cane is the most beautiful book of the 20th century. I remember just being blown away by its call and response, the repeating imagery of sun and smoke and pines. That book is so stunning. Other astounding work that I always recommend includes Mebvh McGuckian’s Captain Lavender, Anne Carson’s The Autobiography of Red, Evie Shockley’s The New Black, Franz Wright’s Walking to Martha’s Vineyard, Eleni Sikelianos’ Body Clock, Jorie Graham’s The Errancy, Bhanu Kapil’s The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats, and Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann’s translations of Rilke. Those are my hard-hitters. Those books are why I became a poet. 

What writers/artists/people do you find the most influential to the writing of this book and/or your writing in general?

You know, I collected poems while I was writing and editing this book. And I think those specific poems created a kind of constellation around me, almost protective, that kept me writing. Some of those poems include “The Long Recovery” by Ellen Bass, “A Matter of Balance,” by Evie Shockley, “What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay, “I am Not Seaworthy” by Toni Morrison, “Becoming Regardless” by Jack Spicer, “A New Bride Almost Visible in Latin” by Jack Gilbert, “To the Young Who Want to Die” by Gwendolyn Brooks and many, many others. Definitely O’Hara as well. He never leaves me. The most important poem of that little self-curated archive is Frank Bidart’s “Visions at 74” where he writes: “To love existence / is to love what is indifferent to you.” I remember reading that line and just losing it. I have been guided by so much of Bidart. And maybe my book is a little bit about how to sustain rage in the face of that which is indifferent to you, what cannot love you (both personally and abstractly). How do you sustain rage so as to not fall into despair?

I also listened to a variety of music while writing and editing. A mix between contemporary sad kid hip-hop, old school jazz and blues, gospel, 80’s bands, pop culture queens, 1970’s hypnotic modal vamp, classical Spanish guitar, electronic pop, really pretty varied. A few names that come to mind: KOTA the Friend, NoName, Vince Staples, Travis Scott, Miles Davis Quintet, Bessie Smith, Sam Cooke, The Knocks, Solange, Archie Shepp, Pharoah Sanders, Alice Coltrane, Big Mama Thornton, Miriam Makeba, Kamasi Washington, Thompson Twins, Misfits, Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears for Fears, Cher, Whitney Houston, Portishead, Goldfrapp, Memphis Slim, Dinah Washington, Alberto Iglesias, Gustavo Santaolalla, Holychild, Blood Orange, etc.

If you opened a bookstore, where would it be located, what would it be called, and what would your bestseller be?

My grandpa played violin on a ship that sailed between Tanga, Tanzania and Goa, India. I never had the chance to meet him. He died when my dad was sixteen, but I always thought about what that journey might have looked and felt like, its many hardships, but also the wonder of gazing out at the sea playing strings. For that reason, I’d love to open a bookstore that focused specifically on Indian Ocean diaspora and sold books exclusively by authors working, uncovering, or investigating the literature of that oceanic rim. I think there is something rich in thinking about books not necessarily focused on nation-statehood but thinking more about a kind of social-imaginary with a literature that is messy in its conceptualization and crosses, migrates, misses, and mythologizes across many cultures over generations. You could have sections on food, underwater exploration, piracy, long-distance intimacy, trade routes, empire, transnational feminism. I like the idea of a bookstore that is anti-genre and instead, organized by associative thinking and imagination. It would be a logistical nightmare. You would never find what you were looking for, but you might find something you didn’t know existed.

So yes, I’d vote for a little homegrown network of bookstores in India, East Africa, and actually, maybe one of them in Lisbon which is a city that has a long (and problematic) history with the Indian Ocean. I’ve spent a lot of time in Lisbon the past eight years of my life, spending time visiting family and researching the history of the Portuguese empire especially as it relates to my family history (my folks are third generation East African Portuguese colonized Indians). I have a lot of conflicting homelands which is a way of saying that there are times when I feel like I have nothing but a rootless present. That’s something I investigate in my work, that weird (a)temporality. And I’m drawn to the particular light of Lisbon which is quite unusual. I’d call the bookstore “Malaika” which means “Angel” in Swahili and is the favorite folk song of my parents who grew up in Tanzania. I like the idea of a bookstore in Lisbon with the name in Swahili run by a Goan-Canadian-American woman. That’s the world I grew up in… one of multiplicities. 

#Megan Fernandas #City Lights Bookstore #Tin House Books #Good Boys

[forasecondtherewedwon]

79 for Choni maybe? 😍

Thanks for the request! I went summer holiday-themed on this one and I hope you enjoy it!

79. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“This is not a vacation,” Cherylinformed her girlfriend as they pulled into a driveway defined by the one spotthere were no trees, rather than by something normal like asphalt or concrete.Toni smiled to herself as she switched off the ignition and heaved her dooropen. “A vacation involves first class air travel, and fantastic shoppingopportunities, and speaking French! Or at least one of the above!”

“Je peux parler en français si tu préfères,” Toni offered cheekily, beginning to pull their bags from thetrunk.

“That’s trèsdrôle, but in all seriousness, your accent’s coming along nicely,” Cherylcomplimented, sliding her sunglasses out of her hair and putting them on beforeemerging from the car to help. She glanced around and then way up, taking inthe mature pines. “Where are we?”

“North,” Toni huffed, hoisting Cheryl’s heaviest bag.

“That isn’t very precise,” she complained, slingingthe strap of Toni’s backpack―into which she’d crammed all she claimed she’dneed for their weekend away, to Cheryl absolute, incredulous amazement―over hershoulder.

“North of Riverdale,” her girlfriend amended, “butsouth of Québec.”

“Ah,” Cheryl droned in sarcastic comprehension. Seeinghow much fun Toni was having with this plot to take her out into thewilderness, Cheryl decided to let it go. She’d been learning to do that moreand more since Toni had become her girlfriend.

“You’ll love it, Cher,” Toni promised, wrapping a free hand around her waistas they approached their home for the next three days. “Just wait until we getout on the lake!”

“I would happily have flown you to Paris, ma chère. I received plenty from Daddy’s inheritance.”

Toni said nothing, just smiled at her.

Cheryl sighed and leaned her red hair against Toni’s pink, reaching for therailing of the cabin she was horrified to see looked nothing like the aerialview of the Lodge’s cottage (which she’d previously investigated on GoogleEarth). Honestly, it looked more like the kind of place a pair of teenagegirls, such as themselves, would be murdered. Fortunately, Cheryl knew thetruth: that quaint little towns like Riverdale were the spots where tragedystruck, while isolated cabins like this one were perfectly safe.

“This is NOT safe!” Toni shouted at her the next day when, as had beenpromised, they got out on the lake.

“Nonsense,” Cheryl insisted from her own canoe. “I gave both vessels athorough inspection and found them perfectly seaworthy. Or, lake-worthy. If you’rescared,” she offered, softening, “you’re welcome to share mine.”

It was what they should’ve done in the first place, but Toni being Toni hadwanted to learn the nautical ropes alone. Cheryl instantly realized her mistakeof implying that her girlfriend was afraid as Toni’s expression settled dangerouslyand she jabbed her paddle into the water in a stroke utterly lacking finesse.

“This was your idea,” Cheryl reminded her.

“When I said ‘out on the lake,’ I meant more like ‘out in.’ You know, as inswimming.”

“Well, that’s entirely different. When I saw that canoe rental place, Ithought this would be a nice surprise for you.”

“Serpents are not supposed to float on water,” Toni grumbled, shifting aroundon her canoe’s flat seat and peering over the sides. Cheryl rolled her eyes andadjusted the halter of her bathing suit beneath her sundress. They were stillin very shallow water, maybe four feet deep.

“What about sea snakes?” she asked idly, laying her paddle sideways in frontof her to prop her elbows on it. It was a beautiful day, not too hot, and evenwithout the more vigorous version of this activity that she’d planned, Cherylwas enjoying the sunbathing.

“I do not belong to a gang called the Southside Sea Snakes!” Toni snapped, leaning over more to probe solid groundwith her paddle.

Cheryl chuckled to herself, closed her eyes, sighed, and tilted her face upto the sun. She could wait this out. Any minute now, Toni would relax and startenjoying herself. Cheryl loved being on the water, had loved it from childhood,and predicted it was only a matter of time before her girlfriend felt the same.She just needed to get past this reckless independent urge, then they couldshare a two-person canoe and go for a leisurely paddle around the lake. Maybe packa lunch and scout out a picnic spot on the far side of the water. Relaxing intoher daydream, Cheryl nearly lost her paddle over the side when she heard Toni’sscreech, followed by a large splash.

“TONI!” she yelled instinctively. It didn’t matter that the water wasn’tdeep or that the largest things in it were probably perch. Her girlfriend wasin trouble!

Said girlfriend’s pink-haired head broke the surface. Her face was notsmiling.

“Oh my god,” Cheryl breathed. “Come here!”

Bringing her canoe up close to Toni, Cheryl wrestled her over the side ofthe boat, then stretched as far as she could with her paddle to hook Toni’scanoe so it wouldn’t drift. They sat together in the belly of the boat, Cheryl’sarm around her girlfriend’s soaked shoulders.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” she assured her.

“Next year,” Toni stated, wringing out her hair, “you’re flying me to Paris.”

Writing prompts can be found here if you’d like to make a request!

#my writing #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #drabble #riverdale drabble #choni drabble #choni #cheryl blossom #toni topaz

[scotianostra]

David (Davy) Blair was born on 11th November 1874 at Broughty Ferry.

Blair was an employee of the White Star Line and had been originally earmarked to sail on The Titanic on it’s maiden voyage to New York, indeed he was second officer on the ship during its trial voyages to test the ship’s seaworthiness and the final journey from its place of construction in Belfast to Southampton, but a change in crewing lists at the last minute saw the second officer from Broughty Ferry taken off the passenger liner.

In his hurry to disembark the ship at Southampton docks, Davy accidently took a locker key with him.  It was an innocent oversight, but one that likely contributed to the sinking of the Titanic. The seemingly innocuous key was in fact the key to the cupboard in which the crow’s nest binoculars and telescope were kept locked away. Titanic’s lookouts on that fateful night had no access to binoculars, and failed to spot the iceberg until it was too late.

He sent a postcard to his sister-in-law, writing: “Am afraid I shall have to step out to make room for chief officer of the Olympic. “This is a magnificent ship, I feel very disappointed I am not to make her first voyage… I hope eventually to get back to this ship.” But when he left Titanic on April 9, he would never set foot on it again.

The ship sank on April 15 after striking an iceberg, claiming more than 1,500 lives. 

Investigations into the sinking of the Titanic raised lots of questions, including the obvious – why had the iceberg not been seen sooner?

It was believed Davy inadvertently hampered the ability of Titanic’s lookouts during the transatlantic crossing. The official inquiry heard from surviving crew members, lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee.

The pair told the inquiry they would have spotted the iceberg sooner had they had the means to do so.

When questioned how much sooner, Fred replied: “Enough to get out of the way.”

Davy kept the key as a memento and it was considered to be one of the most important artefacts from the Titanic.

He died at the age of 80 in 1955 and the key was passed on to his daughter Nancy.

It later sold at auction for £90,000 in 2007 and the proceeds were used to set up scholarships in Davy’s name.

Davy Blair went on to win gallantry medals later in his career. In 1913, when he was First Officer on the SS Majestic, he jumped 40-foot overboard to help save a crew member from the chilly waters of the Atlantic.

The ship was 700 miles from New York when a stoker from the engine room “rendered temporarily insane by the heat of the stokehold had rushed on deck, and in his frenzy thrown himself into the sea”. Davy, who had just come off duty, heard the commotion and “without a moment’s hesitation” dived from “the dizzy elevation” to the man’s aid.

A report about the rescue in the London Gazette at the time said: “On the morning of 6th May, 1913, whilst the Majestic was in the North Atlantic, a Fireman jumped overboard.

“Vessel was backed to the place where he was supposed to have gone overboard and after some time he was sighted close to the port bow.

“Starboard emergency boat was lowered but Mr Blair, fearing that the boat might not reach him in time, jumped overboard from the port side of the vessel, swam to a lifebuoy which had been thrown overboard, and endeavoured to reach the man with it.

“He did not succeed, but, although weakened by the coldness of the sea, he managed to point out the whereabouts of the man to those in the boat, who rescued him and then picked up Mr Blair.

“There was a fog prevailing at the time and the water was very cold.”

The act of bravery saw him awarded the Sea Gallantry Medal from King George V at Buckingham Palace in 1915 and a medal from the Royal Humane Society.

A total of nine medals awarded to Davy including an OBE, First World War service medals and his Legion d’Honneur – the highest French order of merit.

Pics are of  Commander David Blair, and in the second  left, packing scientific instruments for an expedition to the South Pacific.

#Scotland #scottish #sailor #maritime history #history

[lethargyspecialist]

Masks: the Leftovers, part 2: Throwing the Shark

In which our heroine’s sense of superiority is thoroughly vindicated by her teammates’ own immaturity, the ocean beckons, and a birthday surprise is ruined.

Dear Father, Well first up, I can’t hold my excitement in, thank you for the secret underwater base, even if it is a little smaller than I’m used to. Since it’s so remote and secret and everything, I’m guessing it’s officially off the books which means it officially hasn’t been seized so it’s still mine, right? I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. The dumb alien ship lands us on a beach, for some reason. Yang’s alien girlfriend looks like a complete mess so I ask him if she’s meant to be that colour. He insists they’re just friends-of-friends. But he still puts his magic glowing hands all over her and declares that she’s been poisoned, in whatever fight happened before she crashed on my life. More importantly, it turns out Yang can use his weird life energy stuff to heal and never told me. I had to regenerate myself after I pulled that girder out of my leg when we fought that girder-themed guy last week, and it took hours. Now she’s all healed, Yang’s alien girlfriend immediately starts being mean to me. Well actually, I don’t remember who started it, or why, but I’m pretty sure it was her. So naturally I posture – the way you taught me! – and tell her she comes to my planet and starts being all superior at me and she really wants to challenge me here, in my element? She says what. I say, you know, my element, the ocean’s right here. I check behind me and the ocean is still right there. (I mean I know you’re the one with hydrokinesis or whatever but it still counts, right? If we did fight here, I’d totally have the advantage. That’s strategy.) But she’s still confused. I don’t think she understands, because she’s an alien and everything. The threat kind of fades out. It’s awkward. Yang, the coward, eyes us both weakly. He refuses to back me up and instead turns into a pile of sand (he can do that with his Infinite Powers I guess), shuffles into the ocean, then turns into a puddle of water to wait it out. What. The only other thing here is a rickety house some way down the beach, where some dude’s blasting crummy music - I don’t even have super hearing, but it’s reeeeeally annoying. So while Yang’s busy avoiding his responsibilities and being a bad mentor, the alien girl heads over there. I say fine, whatever, she can leave me too, I’ll handle myself over here. So I storm into her ship and press all the buttons in the hopes that I can either fly away, or screw things up for her, but it’s dead. Piece of junk. Which means I’ve got nothing better to do than follow her, I guess. So I can settle our score. Which I do! Very quickly. I catch up just in time to see her trying to be all friendly with the dude but he totally freaks out, which is refreshing after all the tiring reactions I get. I mock her for it, obviously, and she phases through the wall of the house, crying. Of course, this leaves me alone on this dumb beach, so I shout at the ocean to ask Yang if he’s done being jealous of my cool aquatic powers, and if he’s ready to come out now. Some random patch of ocean waves Yang’s notepad at me, threatening me with a bad report. (It looks pretty soggy. How does stuff like this even work with magical shapeshifting?). I tell the random patch of ocean that he’s being very cruel and unprofessional and he should at least shapeshift a face and come talk to me properly. He throws a tidal wave at me (Yang’s Infinite Powers are totally overpowered? And what does he think he’s going to achieve, attacking the sea-powered girl with seawater?). I break and part it perfectly with my tentacles, like a samurai or something. I think I manage to hit him too, wherever he is and whatever form he’s in, because I’m pretty sure I hear some pathetic spluttering from somewhere. Oh, also, there’s some kind of cybernetic laser shark washed up on the beach from the tidal wave, which I assume is Yang’s fault, or maybe even him shapeshifted, but I am 100% Done with this nonsense so I grab it and swing it around my head a few times. Then I fling it over the horizon and back into the ocean. It’s real satisfying. You know I said it was a laser shark? I was busy at the time, obviously, but it turns out it lasered its way through the walls and roof of the house while it was spinning. It kind of sucks that this seems to be a constant theme of Being a Hero but I’m gonna say it again, I can’t be held responsible for everything that happens with things I grab. Or throw. Or have thrown at me. I mean my superpower is tentacles, what do they want from me? I touch a lot of things. And like by definition if those things are Mine then I’m not going to be letting go of them, am I? So logically, that means the shark and the whole thing with the spacepod in the forest aren’t my fault. You can tell AEGIS that. So finally Yang decides to grow up and get out of the goddamn ocean (I mean it’s not like he has a legitimate reason, he doesn’t have to immerse himself occasionally to prevent his skin drying out or anything). And now we’re all in the loud guy’s beach house, because there’s nothing else remotely interesting around here. The guy’s now passed out drunk apparently, though maybe that’s the alien’s doing for all I know. The fridge is open so I casually streeeetch over and grab a bottle, because I deserve it. It’s been a rough morning, you know? I notice the alien girl actually already has a bottle of her own, so we toast on the sly because at least she’s got good instincts. Finally, the guy notices we’re here (I think Yang sucked the drunkenness out of him? Seems like a bad deal to me…) and asks us who we are and what we think we’re doing drinking. I tell him “I’m a goddamn hero and I just saved you from a laser shark, so you’re welcome and also I deserve this.” He stands silent for a second, which feels great. I figure I should press the attack and dust off the old intro – “I’m Cerata, scion of Dr Diluvian, and-” but he’s got his balance back and now he’s on his phone ignoring me, which is just rude. Turns out he’s a conspiracy theory nut who’s convinced he’s being watched. According to the alien girl, who read his phone’s mind or something. Or maybe just read his phone. Either way, we have this thing on Earth called “boundaries”. Obviously I don’t exactly care about his, but if she tries to read my phone, or somehow gets her little green hands on these letters, I swear I’ll throw her back into space. Anyway, now we’re all thinking about the cyber shark and, in hindsight, the big telescoping camera strapped to its back. Suspicious. I guess we were focused on the laser at the time. Yang’s apparently over his soggy tantrum now, because he decides to act like a leader again, and declares we’re going to investigate. It’s better than sticking around here, plus I’ll get to show off my awesome ocean powers somewhere other than grotty alleyways for once. He turns to me. “Doesn’t your dad do water stuff?” Seriously. Does my father, Doctor Diluvian, the world’s premier aquatic supervillain, do water stuff? Yeah, Yang, yeah he does. And so do I? In case you’ve forgotten? How about I go stick my head in the ocean and use my extremely sensitive chemoceptors to track the shark that I just threw very far away, a feat unimaginable to your puny baseline senses? Yang says he doesn’t know what that word means but yeah I should go do that. Ingrate. It’s been a while since my rhinophores (another word Yang doesn’t know, shame they’re not as dangerous as they sound, but they’re fun to have anyway) tasted water this clean, so far from the city, so there’s that at least. Plus when I’m in the ocean and the others aren’t, I can pretend they don’t exist. Plus, I did need to immerse myself sometime soon and this is much nicer than a bathtub. And this is a good excuse to do that without having to admit in front of Yang or the alien girl that I just need to go soak for a bit before we fly away. Once I’ve got a bearing, though, they fly the spacepod into the ocean (apparently it’s not broken now? and also seaworthy?) and I have to sit on the outside so I can still smell the damn shark while we follow it. Tracking a cyber-shark from the barest traces of heavy metals and other foreign chemicals on the ocean currents isn’t easy, but I do it anyway because I’m that good. Converting information from a sensory process that the others don’t have and literally can’t understand into directions they can follow also isn’t easy. In fact, that alien bitch gets impatient so she dives into my brain to pluck the information out for herself. (I knew she was a damn telepath when I first saw her. What if she’s been in my head already and I just didn’t notice? How can I possibly trust her?) That absolutely does it, so I ask her if she’s maybe thought about which of us can survive at the bottom of the ocean before she violated my mind like that. I’m this close to reaching through the hatch, grabbing her and throwing her out the back of the ship when she pushes a button and shuts me out of the cabin. I fume for a bit, and consider just swimming away and forgetting this mess. Then I feel Yang in my head, trying to calm me down, which is really just as bad and uninvited. Why can’t they just talk to me and be nice to me? I don’t think he realises how clumsy he is when he throws around random powers that he’s never used before, but I let him think he’s succeeded. I’ll hold it against him and bring it up some other time when he’s trying to paint himself as a saint. Finally, we track the shark to some kind of ocean-floor base. You know, like the kind you have, scattered around the world. It’s remarkably like one of ours, actually. I realise I never checked if the cyber shark had Fathom Labs insignia on it, but in my defence I was very angry and busy throwing my powers around at the time. Yang insists on going ahead in puddle form, and when we don’t see or hear any explosions for a couple of minutes, we follow with the ship. And use the submarine pen as it’s actually meant to be used, surfacing and stepping out onto the walkway like I own the place. Which, plot twist, it turns out I do. It was so good to hear your voice again, even in a recording. And so thoughtful of you to record that message in case I did find this place. I know it was meant to be a surprise for when I’m older, but I hope you’re proud of me for using my initiative now! I guess I just need to find out what kind of scum has crawled in here while you were gone, kick them out, and I can enjoy some small fraction of my birthright again. Naturally, the feeling is short-lived because Yang refuses to let me just have a moment, just one time, and he kills the shark. My shark! I say kill, I don’t actually know because with Yang’s Infinite Powers, who can tell what he did to the poor thing as it sat helpless in its shark cradle. I think he hacked it? Or absorbed it? Or both? Now he’s flopping around pretending to be some kind of sharkboy. What’s his deal today, with all the shapeshifting and muscling in on the ocean-themed stuff? Is he mocking me? Is he jealous? Does he finally accept that he should be my sidekick, rather than my mentor? Whatever. I’ll write to you again when I’ve liberated your base for you. And I’ll try not to break too much stuff while I’m at it, since for once everything around me is actually mine. Wish me luck! ~ Vikki

#Masks #RPGs #Long post #That one came out at over 2000 words #Maybe I should be putting these on AO3 or something

[ohhowpeculiar]

What happened to the crew of the Mary Celeste?

On December 5, 1872, the brigantine Mary Celeste was discovered abandoned by the crew of the Dei Gratia near the Azores Islands. Though still seaworthy, her lifeboat was missing, along with all ten crew members and passengers. The crew of the Dei Gratia decided to sail the Mary Celeste into port at Gibraltar, where an investigation was launched.

While a number of theories have been proposed, the mysterious disappearance of the ten people onboard the Mary Celeste has never been definitively explained.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now, but every time I start, I get overwhelmed by the enormity of it. I’m going to be leaving out a lot of details in order to keep this reasonably short.

Background

The Mary Celeste left New York Harbor on November 7, 1872. The ship was to deliver 1,701 barrels of denatured (industrial) alcohol to Genoa, Italy. On board was Captain Benjamin Briggs; his wife, Sarah; and 2-year-old daughter, Sophia. The crew consisted of first mate Albert G. Richardson; second mate Andrew Gilling; steward Edward William Head; and four general seaman: brothers Volkert and Boz Lorenzen, Arian Martens and Gottlieb Goodschaad.

Captain Briggs was, by all accounts, a fair and level-headed captain, and had judged the journey from New York to Genoa safe enough to allow his wife and infant daughter to join him. He came from a long line of sea captains, and was very well-respected for his leadership skills. He chose his crew with extra care on this journey, since his family would be with him.

The Mary Celeste had just undergone a major restoration and was “in beautiful trim,” according to Captain Briggs. He owned a 4/12 investment in the ship.

Discovery

The crew of the Dei Gratia came across the Mary Celeste on December 5th (according to the sea calendar, December 4th on the land calendar). The captain of the Dei Gratia, David Morehouse, observed the Mary Celeste from his own ship, and noted that the sails were set unusually and there seemed to be no one at her helm. Captain Morehouse decided to approach the Mary Celeste and see what was wrong.

Her sails were in poor condition, hatches were open with sounding rods laying nearby. Her cargo was mostly intact, though 9 barrels were discovered to be empty when sailed into Gibraltar. There was some water in the bilge, but not an alarming amount. Nothing about the Mary Celeste suggested that the ship was so unsafe that the 10 missing people would have abandoned it. Abandoning ship is the very last resort, after all.

There was no sign of the Captain Briggs, his wife, child or any of the crew, and the ship’s only lifeboat was missing. The last entry in the ship’s log positioned the ship at 37°01'N, 25°01'W, north of Santa Maria Island, several hundred nautical miles from where the Dei Gratia found the ship. That last entry was made on November 25th.

The Dei Gatia crew decided to tow her into harbor and lay a salvage claim on the ship. Once they pulled into harbor in Gibraltar, an investigation began, conducted by a man named Frederick Solly Flood, Attorney General of Gibraltar.

Theories

(In the interest of making this post reasonably concise, I’m going to leave out a lot of details about the inquiry. If you want to learn more about Flood and the Dei Gratia crew’s salvage hearing, check out the sources below.)

There are loads of theories about what happened to the Mary Celeste and her crew, with new ones being circulated all the time. Here are a few of the most popular:

1. Insurance scam: The ship was in good condition, along with its cargo, and still insurers had to pay salvage. The owner of the Mary Celeste, a man named Winchester, could have hired the crew of the Dei Gratia to tow the ship into Gibraltar and make up a story about its abandonment. The fact that Captain Briggs and Captain Morehouse turned out to be friends make this theory all the more tantalizing - perhaps the two men concocted the plot together.

However, would they have manufactured a scheme like this with such a mysterious and headline-grabbing story? It seems more likely that the fraudsters would have done everything they could to fly under the radar and not draw attention.

Another hole in the theory was the fate of the Briggs. Would they have willingly walked away from their home and family? Not likely, according to most who knew them. Sarah and Benjamin had an older son away at boarding school when they set sail, and were very close to their extended family, so not the type of people who would pick up and leave, never to be heard from again. And even if they had, where did they go?

2. Pirates: Not terribly likely, since the ship and the cargo were left behind. Why would pirates take ten people but leave behind a valuable ship?

3. Alcohol fumes and panic: This is a theory I came across in Brian Hicks’ book Ghost Ship. He proposes that the crew of the Mary Celeste became alarmed when pressure from alcohol fumes (coming from a few porous barrels) in the hold caused some of the hatches on the ship to blow. Terrified that the ship might explode (a very real fear when shipping a combustable agent like alcohol), the ten passengers and crew got into the life raft, but kept their small boat tied to the Mary Celeste to keep them from drifting apart. However, the rope they used was in poor condition and ultimately snapped, leaving the Briggs family and the crew to drift out into the open sea.

4. Mutiny/Foul Play: Another theory I don’t find terribly likely, since Briggs was known as a fair and just captain, and he had chosen his crew very carefully to insure it would be a smooth and easy trip. All of the crew members were said to be easygoing and professional, not hotheads who would dare mutiny against their captain.

The mutiny theory was popular for some time, in large part because Attorney General Flood found a sword on the ship that had what he believed was blood on the blade. Flood believed either the crew of the Mary Celeste mutinied, or the crew of the Dei Gratia attacked Captain Briggs’ ship in order to claim salvage. However, the sword turned out to be a decorative piece from Captain Briggs’ quarters, and the “blood” was actually rust.

5. Natural phenomena: Waterspouts or an earthquake on the sea floor may have caused some of the damage to the ship’s sails, and caused alcohol to leak and create fumes.

And when in doubt…

Sources

Ghost Ship: The Mysterious True Story of the Mary Celeste and Her Missing Crew by Brian Hicks

Skeptoid: The Mystery of the Mary Celeste

University College London: Solved: The Mystery of the Mary Celeste

Smithsonian Magazine: Abandoned Ship: The Mary Celeste

Slate.com: Ghost Ship (more about the colorful life of the Mary Celeste after the disappearance of her crew, an interesting read)

#Mary Celeste #maritime mysteries #disappearances

[newstfionline]

Headlines

Look out, Mars: Here we come with a fleet of spacecraft (AP) Mars is about to be invaded by planet Earth—big time. Three countries—the United States, China and the United Arab Emirates—are sending unmanned spacecraft to the red planet in quick succession beginning this week, in the most sweeping effort yet to seek signs of ancient microscopic life while scouting out the place for future astronauts. The U.S., for its part, is dispatching a six-wheeled rover the size of a car, named Perseverance, to collect rock samples that will be brought back to Earth for analysis in about a decade. Each spacecraft will travel more than 300 million miles (483 million kilometers) before reaching Mars next February. It takes six to seven months, at the minimum, for a spacecraft to loop out beyond Earth’s orbit and sync up with Mars’ more distant orbit around the sun.

Trump, Biden try to outdo each other on tough talk on China (AP) China has fast become a top election issue as President Donald Trump and Democrat Joe Biden engage in a verbal brawl over who’s better at playing the tough guy against Beijing. China is not just a foreign policy issue in the November election. It’s an issue that runs deeply through the troubles with the virus, which tanked the U.S. economy. Voters also will be asking themselves whether Trump or Biden can best defend the U.S. against China’s unfair trade practices, theft of intellectual property rights, rising aggression across the globe and human rights abuses. “Which person looks more subservient to the Chinese leaders is the person who’s in more jeopardy,” Republican pollster Frank Luntz said.

US rejects nearly all Chinese claims in South China Sea (AP) The Trump administration escalated its actions against China on Monday by stepping squarely into one of the most sensitive regional issues dividing them and rejecting outright nearly all of Beijing’s significant maritime claims in the South China Sea. The administration presented the decision as an attempt to curb China’s increasing assertiveness in the region with a commitment to recognizing international law. But it will almost certainly have the more immediate effect of further infuriating the Chinese, who are already retaliating against numerous U.S. sanctions and other penalties on other matters. It also comes as President Donald Trump has come under growing fire for his response to the COVID-19 pandemic, stepped up criticism of China ahead of the 2020 election and sought to paint his expected Democratic challenger, former Vice President Joe Biden, as weak on China. The announcement was released a day after the fourth anniversary of a binding decision by an arbitration panel in favor of the Philippines that rejected China’s maritime claims around the Spratly Islands and neighboring reefs and shoals. China has refused to recognize that decision, which it has dismissed as a “sham,” and refused to participate in the arbitration proceedings. It has continued to defy the decision with aggressive actions that have brought it into territorial spats with Vietnam, the Philippines and Malaysia in recent years.

57 injured in fire aboard ship at Naval Base San Diego (AP) Firefighters were still battling a blaze Monday on a Navy combat ship that injured at least 57 people and sent smoke billowing over San Diego. The fire began Sunday morning aboard the USS Bonhomme Richard, apparently in a vehicle storage area as the ship was in a berth undergoing maintenance, according to Rear Adm. Philip Sobeck. Initially, 17 sailors and four civilians were reported injured but by early Monday the number had grown to 57 and five remained hospitalized for observation, the Navy said. Firefighters attacked the flames inside the ship while firefighting vessels with water cannons directed streams of seawater into the ship and helicopters made water drops. Adm. Sobeck said there was no ordnance on board, and while the ship holds a million gallons (3.7 million liters) of fuel it was “well below” any heat source.

Fourth in the world for most new cases (Reuters) Florida reported a record increase of more than 15,000 new coronavirus cases in 24 hours on Sunday. If Florida were a country, it would rank fourth worldwide for the most new daily cases, after the United States, Brazil and India, according to a Reuters analysis. Health officials have pleaded with the public to wear masks to limit the virus spread, but the issue has become politically divisive.

U.S. turns screws on maritime industry to cut off Venezuela’s oil (Reuters) Several companies that certify vessels are seaworthy and ship insurers have withdrawn services to tankers involved in the Venezuelan oil trade as the United States targets the maritime industry to tighten sanctions on the Latin American country. U.S. sanctions have driven Venezuela’s oil exports to their lowest levels in nearly 80 years, starving President Nicolas Maduro’s socialist government of its main source of revenue and leaving authorities short of cash for essential imports such as food and medicine. The sanctions are part of U.S. efforts to weaken Maduro’s grip on power after Washington and other Western democracies accused him of rigging a 2018 re-election vote. Despite the country’s economic collapse, Maduro has held on and frustrated the administration of U.S. President Donald Trump. Maduro’s government says the United States is trying to seize Venezuela’s oil and calls the U.S. measures illegal persecution that heap suffering on the Venezuelan people.

The cost of Brexit (Foreign Policy) The United Kingdom announced plans to spend $890 million on border infrastructure to better facilitate trade after its transition deal with the European Union, according to Cabinet Secretary Michael Gove. Talks between the two sides are ongoing, with another formal round of trade talks set to begin on July 20. How the British government plans to handle the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, a sticking point in EU negotiations, will be announced “later this month,” Gove said.

Families of Italy’s virus dead seek answers, solace, justice (AP) It started out as way for grief-struck families to mourn their coronavirus dead online: a Facebook group where relatives who were denied a funeral because of Italy’s stringent lockdowns could share photos, memories and sorrow that their loved ones had died all alone. But this spontaneous virtual forum for eulogies, anguish and condolences has now turned into an activist group that is providing a steady stream of testimony and evidence to prosecutors investigating whether any crimes contributed to Italy’s COVID-19 toll. Lawyers for the Noi Denunceremo (We Will Denounce) Facebook group and an affiliated non-profit committee are filing 100 new cases Monday with Bergamo prosecutors investigating the outbreak, on top of 50 complaints lodged last month. The case files and Facebook posts paint a visceral portrait of the people swept up in Italy’s devastating coronavirus outbreak, the first in the West: of mothers and fathers taken away by ambulance and never seen alive again by their children; of frantic efforts to locate vacant intensive care beds and impossible-to-find oxygen tanks; of hospitals so overwhelmed trying to save the living that relatives of the dead were often just an afterthought. “It’s a system that didn’t hold up, a system that had to choose who to save and who not,” said Diego Federici, 35, who lost his otherwise healthy mother and father to COVID-19 in just four days in March. Federici believes that neither of his parents was treated adequately. He says his mother was essentially sedated until she died and then her body was transported to Bologna, 250 kilometers (155 miles) away, to be cremated because Bergamo’s crematoriums and cemeteries were full.

PiS wins close Polish election (Foreign Policy) Incumbent Polish President Andrzej Duda has claimed victory in Sunday’s presidential runoff election pitting him against Warsaw Mayor Rafal Trzaskowski. With 99 percent of precincts reporting, Duda is leading with 51.2 percent of the vote. Despite coronavirus fears, voter turnout was approximately 68 percent—the highest in 25 years.

Fighting breaks out on Azerbaijan-Armenia border (Reuters) Several Azeri and Armenian soldiers have been killed or wounded in border clashes, both countries said on Monday, each accusing the other of encroaching on its territory. The two former Soviet republics have long been in conflict over Azerbaijan’s breakaway, mainly ethnic Armenian region of Nagorno-Karabakh, although the latest clashes occurred around the Tavush region in northeast Armenia, some 300 km (190 miles) from the mountainous enclave.

To ‘Protect Young Minds,’ Hong Kong Moves to Overhaul Schools (NYT) Starting this fall, schools in Hong Kong will display colorful new government-issued posters declaring that “freedom comes with responsibilities.” Administrators may now call the police if anyone insults the Chinese national anthem on campus. Students as young as kindergartners will be taught about a new national security law that gives the authorities the power to squelch opposition to Beijing with heavy prison sentences. After months of antigovernment protests in Hong Kong, China’s ruling Communist Party is reaching into the semiautonomous territory to overhaul an education system that it sees as having given rise to a generation of rebellious youth. The sweeping law Beijing imposed earlier this month also targets Hong Kong’s students, who have been a galvanizing force behind the protests. Carrie Lam, the city’s Beijing-backed leader, said at a forum on Saturday that the arrests of more than 3,000 children and teenagers at protests had exposed how the city’s campuses had been penetrated by forces hostile to the local and central governments. Mrs. Lam said the schools’ textbooks, classroom teaching and students’ extracurricular activities reflected negative news media reporting about China and the “wanton discrediting of the government and police.”

Israeli police break up anti-Netanyahu protest in Jerusalem (AP) Israeli police and Jerusalem municipal officials scuffled with protesters demonstrating against Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on Monday as officers dismantled tents set up by the demonstrator’s outside the premier’s residence. The demonstrators have staged a sit-in outside Netanyahu’s official residence in Jerusalem for the past month, calling on him to resign while facing corruption charges. They said police used excessive force to dismantle the sit-in while opposition politicians decried the move as a restriction of free expression. Video footage from the scene appeared to show city officials and police officers tearing down banners and removing chairs and tents while tussling with demonstrators. Jerusalem city hall said in a statement that the municipality had removed the protesters’ equipment for a second consecutive day because it “was placed without a permit and harms public order.”

In Egypt, volunteers make meals with love for virus patients (AP) Fatma Youssef stuffs rice, chicken or meat and vegetables into boxes spread on her dining table—tens of them in the last few weeks. On some, she scribbles “Be well” in Arabic; on others, she writes “Together, we will get through this.” Youssef doesn’t know who will eat her food. Still, she says, she cooks it with love—and purpose. She and other volunteers in Egypt hope the meals will help nurse quarantined coronavirus patients back to health and provide them with some respite. In different neighborhoods in Cairo and some other cities, they’ve enlisted to cook, donate food or make contactless deliveries to patients’ homes. The effort took off in early June after Basma Mostafa, a 30-year-old journalist, wrote on Facebook that she was thinking of cooking nutritious meals for patients. She asked if someone would be willing to help with expenses or delivery or to connect her with those who are sick. Messages flooded her inbox. Friends and strangers offered to pitch in. So, she decided to create the meals initiative. Today, about 1,500 volunteers take part in the program, and thousands more have asked to join, Mostafa said. Others have created similar efforts in their neighborhoods, she added. The personal touch is the handwritten messages of support. “We are all with you,” reads one. “Speedy recovery,” says another. After one volunteer wrote, “made with love,” it has become a favorite slogan.

UN: Pandemic could push tens of millions into chronic hunger (AP) The United Nations says the ranks of the world’s hungry grew by 10 million last year and warns that the coronavirus pandemic could push as many as 130 million more people into chronic hunger this year. The grim assessment was contained in the latest edition of the State of Food Security and Nutrition in the World, an annual report released Monday by the five U.N. agencies that produced it. Preliminary projections based on available global economic outlooks suggest the pandemic “may add an additional 83 (million) to 132 million people to the ranks of the undernourished in 2020,” the report said. Also compounding the situation is what the report’s authors described as “unprecedented Desert Locust outbreaks” in Eastern Africa.

#headlines #news

[myallywynn]

Containers falling off ships while at sea – who is responsible..??

2019 was quite the year for maritime disasters with ships on fire, containers falling off ships etc..

2020 seems to be hitting the industry in other ways which could also be considered a kind of maritime disaster..

But in what may be the first reported case of containers falling off ships in 2020, the APL England a 5,780 TEU capacity containership lost around 40 containers off the coast of New South Wales in Australia..

It has also been reported that around 74 containers are lying in a collapsed state within the stacks on board the ship..

The APL England was on its routine A3N ANL service between Asia and Oceania (China to Melbourne) when it is said to have rolled in heavy weather, losing the containers overboard..

As per the Australian Maritime Safety Authority (AMSA), the ship experienced a temporary loss of propulsion during heavy seas about 73kms South-East off Sydney..

The ship has reached Port of Brisbane anchorage (off Port Cartwright) where it has been boarded by a team of surveyors organised by AMSA to conduct a seaworthiness inspection to establish the structural and operational condition of the ship following the collapse of container stacks on deck..

The identity of the containers (container numbers) that have fallen overboard is still not known and from initial information, the containers are said to contain a wide range of goods like household appliances, building materials and medical supplies..

Click to view slideshow.

  Australian news channels are reporting that surgical masks have washed ashore on Australian beaches reportedly from the APL England.. There are no immediate reports of any dangerous goods in the affected stack rows and AMSA is verifying all information to confirm the nature of the cargoes in the containers that went overboard..

In rough weather early yesterday morning, about 40 containers were lost overboard from the Singapore-flagged container ship APL England about 73km south east of Sydney. pic.twitter.com/tdDaTtIqCV

— AMSA News (@AMSA_News) May 25, 2020

As per AMSA’s General Manager of Operations Allan Schwartz, “Once the ship is safely in port we will begin our investigation which will focus on the safety of the ship including whether cargo was appropriately stacked and secured on board the ship, and any potential breaches of environmental pollution regulations. 

We have received a report of some medical supplies (for example, face masks) washing up between Magenta Beach and The Entrance. This information has been passed on to NSW Maritime. These correlate to drift modelling of debris and are consistent with items listed on the ship’s cargo manifest.“..

An interesting point to note is that this same ship APL England reportedly lost 37 containers which fell off the same deck in the Great Australian Bight in August 2016 also due to bad weather..

This ship is a Singapore flagged ship and such incidents bring to the fore the question whether the ship register or ship registry is liable for containers falling off a ship and who is really responsible.. Let’s see..

  Cargo movement while at sea

If you are in shipping or in the business of exporting and importing it would be good for you to understand a bit about the laws of physics, the connection between shipping and physics, concepts like velocity, inertia and how it applies to the motion of the ocean, and the movement of cargo inside containers while it is in transit..

As per the IMO (International Maritime Organisation), the accelerations acting on a ship during its passage results in a combination of longitudinal, vertical and predominantly transverse motions and the forces created by these accelerations give rise to the majority of securing problems.. 

The worst movement a cargo undergoes maybe while it is at sea.. Unlike road and rail transport, while at sea, a ship can move in 6 different ways as shown below..

Each of these movements causes a different kind of stress on the cargo packed inside the container and if there is movement of cargo inside the container due to improper packing, there is a greater chance of it damaging the container and even coming out of the container..

Such opposing and counter acting motion could also result in container stacks collapsing especially if the cargo is heavy and is not packed properly..

  CSS Code and Cargo Securing Manual

The IMO adopted the Code of Safe Practice for Cargo Stowage and Securing (CSS Code) in November 1991 as a guideline to avoid the hazards arising from these forces..

The CSS Code which deals with measures to ensure proper stowage and securing of cargoes on board and to reduce the amplitude and frequency of ship motions, provides an international standard to promote the safe stowage and securing of cargoes by:

drawing the attention of shipowners and ship operators to the need to ensure that the ship is suitable for its intended purpose;

providing advice to ensure that the ship is equipped with proper cargo securing means;

providing general advice concerning the proper stowage and securing of cargoes to minimize the risks to the ship and personnel;

providing specific advice on those cargoes which are known to create difficulties and hazards with regard to their stowage and securing;

advising on actions which may be taken in heavy sea conditions; and

advising on actions which may be taken to remedy the effects of cargo shifting..

The General Principles are

All cargoes should be stowed and secured in such a way that the ship and persons on board are not put at risk..

The safe stowage and securing of cargoes depend on proper planning, execution and supervision..

Personnel commissioned to tasks of cargo stowage and securing should be properly qualified and experienced..

Personnel planning and supervising the stowage and securing of cargo should have a sound practical knowledge of the application and content of the Cargo Securing Manual..

In all cases, improper stowage and securing of cargo will be potentially hazardous to the securing of other cargoes and to the ships itself..

Decisions taken for measures of stowage and securing cargo should be based on the most severe weather conditions which may be expected by experience for the intended voyage..

Ship-handling decisions taken by the master, especially in bad weather conditions, should take into account the type and stowage position of the cargo and the securing arrangements.. 

The IMO has issued revised guidelines (MSC.1/Circ.1353/Rev.1 – 15 December 2014) for the preparation of Cargo Securing Manual..

In accordance with the International Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea, 1974 (SOLAS) chapters VI, VII and the Code of Safe Practice for Cargo Stowage and Securing (CSS Code), cargo units, including containers, shall be stowed and secured throughout the voyage in accordance with a Cargo Securing Manual, approved by the Administration..

The purpose of these guidelines is to ensure that Cargo Securing Manuals cover all relevant aspects of cargo stowage and securing and to provide a uniform approach to the preparation of Cargo Securing Manuals, their layout and content..

These guidelines state that “It is important that securing devices meet acceptable functional and strength criteria applicable to the ship and its cargo. It is also important that the officers on board are aware of the magnitude and direction of the forces involved and the correct application and limitations of the cargo securing devices.

The crew and other persons employed for the securing of cargoes should be instructed in the correct application and use of the cargo securing devices on board the ship.”

It is expected that adherence to these guidelines combined with the possibility of weight misdeclaration, will be the subject of the investigation by AMSA and The Australian Transport Safety Bureau (ATSB) while they are onboard the APL England..

  Conclusion

Thankfully there has been no loss of life here and while many may think this is just a small passing issue and an inherent vice of the business, there are a few issues arising out of this..

Losses to those whose containers fell overboard ;

Possible loss and damage to those whose containers are in the collapsed stacks ;

Delays for all the customers whose cargoes are on board the ship whether damaged or not ;

Loss/damage due to these delays which may or may not be covered by insurance even ICC(A) ;

There could even be a few who may not have insured their cargo (intentionally or otherwise)

Stay tuned to get updates on this issue..

The post Containers falling off ships while at sea – who is responsible..?? appeared first on Shipping and Freight Resource.

from Moving https://shippingandfreightresource.com/containers-falling-off-ships-while-at-sea-who-is-responsible/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[ladystylestores]

Review: Revisit the controversial Biosphere 2 project with Spaceship Earth

Official trailer for Spaceship Earth, a documentary about the controversial Biosphere 2 experiment in the early 1990s.

In September 1991, amid much media fanfare, eight people entered a closed experimental facility called Biosphere 2 for a two-year stint in total isolation. They endured hunger, a dangerous rise in CO2 levels, interpersonal squabbles, a media backlash, and sharp criticism from the scientific establishment. Today, most people might recall Biosphere 2 as a colossal failure. But the truth is much more nuanced than that, as we learn in Spaceship Earth, Director Matt Wolf’s self-described “stranger than fiction” documentary about the controversial experiment. The film made a splash at Sundance earlier this year, and is now available for streaming on Hulu, Apple TV, and other select platforms.

Biosphere 2, a 3.14-acre facility located in Oracle, Arizona, has a long, colorful history tailor-made for the documentary treatment.  Built between 1987 and 1992, its original objective was to be an artificial, fully self-sustaining closed ecological system—a large-scale vivarium, if you will. (It was called Biosphere 2 because the Earth itself is the original biosphere.) There were seven distinct “biome” areas: a rainforest, an ocean with living coral reef, a savannah grassland, a fog desert, mangrove wetlands, an agricultural system (i.e., a small farm), and a human habitat.

Spaceship Earth delves deep into the roots of the project, going back to the 1960s, when John Allen and several cohorts (some would later deem them cultish followers) moved from San Francisco to New Mexico and founded a commune called Synerga Ranch. They were inspired by surrealist/spiritualist French novelist René Daumal, among others, as well as Buckminster Fulller’s Spaceship Earth. They even built their own geodesic dome on the ranch, the better to hold communal gatherings and stage amateur theatrical productions. (They would later tour as the Theater of Possibilities.)

Once the ranch became self-sufficient, Allen grew bored and moved his core group to Berkeley, where they built a ship called the Heraclitus on the Oakland shore. Miraculously, given their lack experience, the Heraclitus proved seaworthy. Under the umbrella of what would become the Institute of Ecological Technologies, they also founded several successful business ventures around the world, in partnership with Ed Bass, the heir to a massive Texas oil fortune who was among those drawn to Allen and Synerga Ranch.

All that is prologue to Allen’s idea for Biosphere 2, inspired in part by the strong environmental themes of the 1972 post-apocalyptic film Silent Running. In that film, all plant life on Earth is becoming extinct, and a group tries to preserve as many specimens as possible in greenhouse-like geodesic domes, attached to a large spaceship just outside the orbit of Saturn. For his real-world project, Allen envisioned an enclosed, completely self-sufficient structure on Earth that could serve as a test module for setting up a colony on the moon or Mars.

Down memory lane

A double rainbow seems to bode well for the start of the Biosphere 2 project.

YouTube/NEON

Visionary leader John Allen built a geodesic dome in the 1960s

YouTube/NEON

Communal living on Synerga Ranch. Some later called it a cult.

YouTube/NEON

John Allen holds court in that first dome.

YouTube/NEON

The Biosphere 2 mission generated considerable media interest.

YouTube/NEON

Crew poses for a publicity photo inside Biosphere 2.

NEON

A bit of indoor gardening.

YouTube/NEON

Tending to one of the many animals.

YouTube/NEON

The 9100-square foot “ocean,” complete with a coral reef.

YouTube/NEON

Monitoring one of the seven biome regions.

YouTube/NEON

An indoor “rainforest.”

YouTube/NEON

Perhaps the isolation is starting to get to him.

YouTube/NEON

A serious issue developed with CO2 levels.

YouTube/NEON

Oxygen was in short supply.

YouTube/NEON

There were a few health issues.

YouTube/NEON

The intrepid crew.

YouTube/NEON

That first two-year experiment produced mixed results. The biospherians managed to grow or produce 83 percent of their food, especially as their farming skills improved, but hunger was constant. A few ants and cockroaches snuck into the ecosystem before it was sealed, and over time threatened the crops. Just 12 days in, biospherian Jayne Poynter accidentally cut off the tip of her finger in a threshing machine while winnowing rice. She had to be temporarily evacuated for surgery, returning a few hours later. But she brought back a duffel bag—purportedly containing circuit boards, plastic bags, and a planting plan—which fueled media speculation that she was sneaking in food, and that the grand experiment had already been compromised.

Most seriously, oxygen levels began falling precipitously, down to just 14.5 percent (what one might experience at an elevation of 13,000 feet). When the team’s medical doctor became so impaired that he could no longer add columns of numbers, the managers intervened, pumping in pure oxygen to restore the balance. It was later determined that the primary culprits for rising CO2 were microbes in the enriched soils, which produced CO2 faster than the plants could produce oxygen. Making matters worse, the unsealed concrete in the habitat reacted with the CO2 to form calcium carbonate, effectively sequestering both oxygen and CO2.

The low oxygen levels no doubt contributed to the interpersonal tensions and overall low morale; ultimately the biospherians split into two factions that weren’t speaking to each other when they finally emerged after two years. But despite the infighting, they still managed to continue to cooperate for their shared survival. The same could not be said for management. Rifts emerged over the focus of the research, and Bass (frustrated by the massive cost over-runs, among other issues) ultimately took out a restraining order and ousted Allen and his team with the help of several police officers.

Some considered Biosphere 2 to be little more than “ecological entertainment.”

While Allen brought on several professional scientists as consultants for various aspects of the project, there were still those who considered Biosphere 2 to be little more than “ecological entertainment,” or, more harshly, “New Age drivel masquerading as science.” One early critic was Ghillean Prance, director of the Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew, who initially dismissed the project and claimed Allen et al.’s “interest in science is not genuine.”

But Prance later changed his tune, impressed by the group’s organization and passion, and went on to design the rainforest biome.  “You shouldn’t hold their past against them,” he told the Phoenix New Times in 1991. Independent scientific assessments in 1992 and 1994 concurred that the project was a legitimate laboratory for investigating relevant ecological questions. Nonetheless, in 1999 Time included Biosphere 2 in a list of the 100 worst ideas.

There is much to like about Spaceship Earth. Given all the controversies that have erupted over the years, it’s an inherently fascinating topic, and Wolf approaches it with an even hand, whether he’s portraying the group’s early days as rather naive idealistic dreamers, or chronicling the inevitable pain of disillusionment. Wolf has captured the essence of why Biosphere 2 proved to have such a strong hold on the public’s imagination—and just how impressive it was that Allen and his group managed to pull it off at all.

It’s easy to sneer at their hippie roots, or cringe at the amateur theatrics of the Theater of Possibilities, but you have to admire the ingenuity and sheer chutzpah of these people. The fact remains that they took on a daunting challenge and (mostly) got it done. There were setbacks and disappointments, but we really did gain some valuable knowledge from Biosphere 2. (Sadly, much of the original data collected from that two-year experiment has never been analyzed, and may be lost. ) As for the cult accusations, Allen is still living on Synerga Ranch with several members of that original group—friendships that have endured for some 50 years. Cults aren’t typically that enduring.

Biosphere 2 today

Biosphere 2’s distinctive architecture still stands out in the desert terrain.

Jennifer Ouellette

Entering Biosphere 2

Jennifer Ouellette

An ecosystem under glass.

Jennifer Ouellette

Living quarters

Jennifer Ouellette

The communal kitchen

Jennifer Ouellette

The rainforest biome.

Jennifer Ouellette

Divers in the ocean biome.

Jennifer Ouellette

The desert biome looks a lot like Oracle, Arizona.

Jennifer Ouellette

Nothing but blue sky.

Jennifer Ouellette

In the belly of the beast: entrance to the South Lung

Jennifer Ouellette

The South Lung.

Jennifer Ouellette

The original test module still stands.

Jennifer Ouellette

So do the original Quarantine Labs.

Jennifer Ouellette

There’s a gift shop, too.

Jennifer Ouellette

That said, at nearly two hours, Spaceship Earth is overlong; it would work better at a more nimble 85-90 minutes. It also hews a little too closely to a strict chronological timeline. After a short introductory 1991 segment, Wolf jumps back 25 years and spends a big chunk of the film reminiscing about the group’s earliest days. That period is vital to provide context for Biosphere 2, but it’s also frankly the least interesting. The material could have been trimmed back substantially—possibly even sprinkled throughout the documentary as flashbacks when that context was relevant—while still making Wolf’s major points.

Spaceship Earth ends rather abruptly with the premature termination of the second Biosphere 2 mission (which did manage to achieve total food sufficiency with no need for oxygen injections), the ousting of the original management team by Bass, and the dissolution of Space Biospheres Ventures. It spends very little time on what’s become of the facility since then. Biosphere 2 is no longer a closed system experiment. Columbia University switched the research focus to that of a “flow-through” system when it took over operation in 1995, using it to manipulate and study shifting CO2 levels for global warming research—notably the impact of high CO2 levels and ocean acidification on coral reefs.

Today, Biosphere 2 is owned and operated by the University of Arizona. Some of the older structures outside are a bit worse for the wear, like the old test module and original quarantine labs.  But solid science is still being done on-site, and Ed Bass continues to supply occasional funding, most recently donating $30 million in 2017.  The projects are smaller and more focused, including a lunar greenhouse, designed to explore how to grow vegetables on the moon or Mars; a vertical farming project constructed in Biosphere 2’s west lung; and a Landscape Evolution Observatory, tracking how volcanic rock slowly develops over time into rich soil. Biosphere 2 also offers public tours and hosts space camps and small conferences.

For Wolf, the timing of his film’s release couldn’t be more relevant to our current predicament. “While making this film, I could never have imagined that a pandemic would require the entire world to be quarantined,” he said in a statement. “In light of COVID-19, we are all living like biospherians, and we too will re-enter a new world. The question is how will we be transformed? Now with a visceral sense of the fragility of our world, it’s on us to protect it.”

  Listing image by NEON

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[hudsonespie]

More Legal Action Taken After Conception Fire

Maritime legal firm Fiore Achermann has initiated legal action on behalf of the family of a man killed in the Conception dive boat fire in September 2019.  

On August 31, 2019, 33 passengers and six crew members boarded the Conception for a three-day diving voyage off the coast of Santa Barbara, California. In the early morning hours of September 2, a fire broke out onboard the vessel that resulted in the death of 33 passengers and one crew member.

An investigation into the tragedy found that divers and crew would charge lithium-ion batteries on the boat for cell phones and tablets, as well as their cameras and other equipment. Preliminary evidence suggests the fire started in the galley where the batteries were being charged. 

The surviving members of the vessel's crew were berthed on the pilothouse level of the boat, and they were awakened by the fire, not by an alarm; at that point, it proved impossible to rescue the victims belowdecks. 

The Conception's smoke detectors were not connected together in a unified fire detection and alarm system, as fire systems meeting merchant-vessel standards are not required aboard a small "T-boat" with less than 49 passengers.

After the fire, the U.S. Coast Guard for the first time recommended that crews limit the use of unsupervised charging of lithium-ion batteries to reduce the risk of fire hazards. 

The family alleges that the Conception dive boat was unseaworthy at the time of the incident. The vessel lacked adequate life-saving and fire-safety equipment, trapping the divers in the hull without a safe means of egress. 

Fiore Achermann's filing is the sixth taken over the incident against the vessel owner Truth Aquatics. "Nearly a year before the Conception's deadly voyage, Truth Aquatics had a fire onboard their sister ship, the Vision, which was reportedly ignited by a lithium battery," said Jennifer Fiore, the firm's leading maritime lawyer.

In addition to the duty to provide a safe and seaworthy vessel to the dive-boat passengers, "the vessel owners had a responsibility to know about the potential dangers of lithium-ion batteries being charged onboard before encouraging passengers to charge their equipment.” Fiore claims the tragedy was completely preventable.

The NTSB, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, the U.S. Coast Guard's marine safety division, the Justice Department and the Coast Guard Investigative Service are conducting three parallel investigations into the circumstances of the fire. A preliminary report by the NTSB found that no one was designated as a roving watch at the time of the fire.

The NTSB recounts details of the vessel and the events surrounding the fire:

The wood and fiberglass vessel was built in 1981. The vessel had three levels: the uppermost sun deck, containing the wheelhouse and crew rooms; the main deck, which included the salon and galley; and the lower deck within the hull, which housed the passenger berthing (bunkroom) and shower room, as well as the engine room and tanks.

Initial interviews of three crewmembers revealed that no mechanical or electrical issues were reported. At the time of the fire, five crewmembers were asleep in berths behind the wheelhouse, and one crewmember was asleep in the bunkroom, which was accessed from the salon down a ladderwell in the forward, starboard corner of the compartment. The bunkroom had an emergency escape hatch located on the aft end, which also exited to the salon. There were two, locally-sounding smoke detectors in the overhead of the bunkroom.  

A crewmember sleeping in the wheelhouse berths was awakened by a noise and got up to investigate. He saw a fire at the aft end of the sun deck, rising up from the salon compartment below. The crewmember alerted the crew behind the wheelhouse. As crewmembers awoke, the captain radioed a distress message to the Coast Guard.

The crewmembers attempted to access the salon and passengers below. Unable to use the aft ladder, which was on fire, the crewmembers jumped down to the main deck (one crewmember broke his leg in the process) and tried to access the salon and galley compartment, which was fully engulfed by fire at the aft end and by thick smoke in the forward end, through a forward window. Unable to open the window and overwhelmed by smoke, the crew jumped overboard.

Two crewmembers and the captain swam to the stern, reboarded the vessel, opened the hatch to the engine room, and saw no fire. Access to the salon through the aft doors was blocked by fire, so they launched a small skiff and picked up the remaining two crewmembers in the water. They transferred to a recreational vessel anchored nearby (Grape Escape) where the captain continued to radio for help, while two crewmembers returned to the Conception to search for survivors around the burning hull. Local Coast Guard and fire departments arrived on scene to extinguish the fire and conduct search and rescue. The vessel burned to the waterline by morning and subsequently sank in about 60 feet of water.

from Storage Containers https://maritime-executive.com/article/more-legal-action-taken-after-conception-fire via http://www.rssmix.com/