The first day was no more than could be expected: waves above the vessel, sharks the size of whales and whales the size of hillocks. The hillocks we spied at the bottom of the ocean with the radar were the size of hills, and the hills as big as mountains. You possibly get the idea and I would only elaborate were I being paid by the word, which I ai-not.
The tiny craft tossed and turned on the water and I do declare Old Rogers looked quite green, and not the usual gammy green but something far more rancid. I felt a punchline was in order and giggled ‘if you think this is bad, wait till we get off the canal!’ How he laughed as he vomited, though with Old Rogers it is always hard to know where a vomit ends and laughter begins.
The second day his eyes were alive with wonder as they darted about the new landscape surrounding our canal. ‘Ma’am,’ he said. ‘I must of died and gone to hivvin. For look! I’ve nivver seen that tree before. Nor that ‘un, nor that ‘un, nor… nor that ‘un, ma’am. I cunnot ‘magine names fur all these trees, ma’am, though I think that ‘un might be called Nerrida, ‘n that ‘un, Cassie.’ He passed many a moment thereafter assuming possible names, just as he had named all the trees in his previous experience, most of them Bunton. ‘Look at that tree thar, ma’am!’ he’d say. ‘Some of the branches much the same shape as Bunton’s.’
The third day, we came to the open sea. Of course, I was used to the journey, and Old Regansett used to do the paddling with some enormous, ill-shaped oars and I would naggivate – a special kind of Lax tradition, where one motivates the worker by nagging incessantly. And I have never been known to let up in my duty in this regard. Old