The Jake is a hard chined flat bottomed double centerboard gaff topsail schooner with a square yard on his foremast. He's 80' on deck and a beam of 20' he draws 4'6" boards up. 8'6" boards down. He's powered by a 200hp diesel coupled to a LaFrance
Settin up communications cash and such
He gave us a file on the duke with much
To do with his details and whereabouts
We needed charts of Bahamas islands
To keep us free of reefs and shoals
We studied these real close all hands
Those shallows had taken many a toll
We needed arms for the Jake and crew
The 45 and scatter guns just wouldn't do
Bill knew a guy named Glen Martin
A young engineer and a wizard with arms
Martin had a plant in Maryland
So we sailed the Jake from Belhaven
To Middle River for Jakes transformation
With the help of an Azores high
The Jake was sailing full and by
Martin's shop built fighter planes
So light and well armed was his aim
We chose twin 50s bow and stern
On aluminum turret pop up mounts
They'd be invisible from afar
But ready for bear at the flick of a bar
50 cal is a half inch shell
armor piercing And nasty as hell
Personal arms we chose ourselves
Jim felt the tommy gun was swell
I liked the 12 gauge on Glen's shelves
For Fog a bazooka why he wouldn't tell
this extra lead steel and aluminum
Wreaked havoc on old Jake's sailing trim
But when powered up the La France gear
Moved the Jake like a rocket never fear
Bill said we needed a two way radio
And an operator who knew his stuff
Messages would be sent in code
So a telegrapher had to be up to snuff
The Jake had no one like this aboard
So Bill seconded one of his folk
Who could turn the dials and knew the score
Lawrence his name a poet of some note
Bill said our guns should be maintained
Our deck guns couldn't be left to jam
We got an armorer highly trained
A British guy named Ken Williams
we stowed their gear and loaded stores
There wasn't any time to lose
We set out with an ebbing tide
We were off to Nassau and woe betide!
Down Chesapeake bay to Fisherman's Island
Then 090 to 74 degrees 30 minutes
Then 180 for twelve hundred or so miles
Till we fetched San Salvador on our starboard beam
The Atlantic's a very lonely place
The sea was empty on all points
Ken felt the time was now
To test our guns and show us how
We had some barrels we shipped as empty
For just this plan so over they went
At 20 yards Jim's tommy was deadly
My double barrel made holes at ten
Ken and Larry manned the twins
At forty yards a stream of red
Sunk two barrels with tracers and lead
Old Jake shook like a leaf in the wind
From down below fog arrived
Carrying his stove pipe by his side
One target barrel was still afloat
With his trigger pull it was all she wrote
It took eight days to fetch San Salvadore light
Then 270 to between rum cay and conception
Then on to Lee Stocking isle
To Thread the shoals to Tongue of the Ocean
It's been a long and detailed yarn
It's time to wet my whistle now
So pass the rum and we'll get back
To the Jake and crew on another tack
Poetry by josephus
Read 642 times
Written on 2015-04-11 at 20:47
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XV Rocks and shoals... The Laird Jake
We spent three days with old Wild BillSettin up communications cash and such
He gave us a file on the duke with much
To do with his details and whereabouts
We needed charts of Bahamas islands
To keep us free of reefs and shoals
We studied these real close all hands
Those shallows had taken many a toll
We needed arms for the Jake and crew
The 45 and scatter guns just wouldn't do
Bill knew a guy named Glen Martin
A young engineer and a wizard with arms
Martin had a plant in Maryland
So we sailed the Jake from Belhaven
To Middle River for Jakes transformation
With the help of an Azores high
The Jake was sailing full and by
Martin's shop built fighter planes
So light and well armed was his aim
We chose twin 50s bow and stern
On aluminum turret pop up mounts
They'd be invisible from afar
But ready for bear at the flick of a bar
50 cal is a half inch shell
armor piercing And nasty as hell
Personal arms we chose ourselves
Jim felt the tommy gun was swell
I liked the 12 gauge on Glen's shelves
For Fog a bazooka why he wouldn't tell
this extra lead steel and aluminum
Wreaked havoc on old Jake's sailing trim
But when powered up the La France gear
Moved the Jake like a rocket never fear
Bill said we needed a two way radio
And an operator who knew his stuff
Messages would be sent in code
So a telegrapher had to be up to snuff
The Jake had no one like this aboard
So Bill seconded one of his folk
Who could turn the dials and knew the score
Lawrence his name a poet of some note
Bill said our guns should be maintained
Our deck guns couldn't be left to jam
We got an armorer highly trained
A British guy named Ken Williams
we stowed their gear and loaded stores
There wasn't any time to lose
We set out with an ebbing tide
We were off to Nassau and woe betide!
Down Chesapeake bay to Fisherman's Island
Then 090 to 74 degrees 30 minutes
Then 180 for twelve hundred or so miles
Till we fetched San Salvador on our starboard beam
The Atlantic's a very lonely place
The sea was empty on all points
Ken felt the time was now
To test our guns and show us how
We had some barrels we shipped as empty
For just this plan so over they went
At 20 yards Jim's tommy was deadly
My double barrel made holes at ten
Ken and Larry manned the twins
At forty yards a stream of red
Sunk two barrels with tracers and lead
Old Jake shook like a leaf in the wind
From down below fog arrived
Carrying his stove pipe by his side
One target barrel was still afloat
With his trigger pull it was all she wrote
It took eight days to fetch San Salvadore light
Then 270 to between rum cay and conception
Then on to Lee Stocking isle
To Thread the shoals to Tongue of the Ocean
It's been a long and detailed yarn
It's time to wet my whistle now
So pass the rum and we'll get back
To the Jake and crew on another tack
Poetry by josephus
Read 642 times
Written on 2015-04-11 at 20:47
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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countryfog |
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Lawrence Beck |
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Jamsbo Rockda |
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ken d williams |
