Content: storm

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The inspiration for this novel is the Victorian obsession with 'sanitising' history; changing, ignoring or deleting facts which they found unpalatable. One such myth is the belief that women did not go to sea in the ships of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. They did. Officially they were forbidden, but some captains and officers took their wives with them and allowed women to accompany some of their men. There were even enlightened masters who allowed troupes of resident prostitutes to sail on board to service the physical needs of the crew! Another myth is that the Royal Navy was an evil organisation run by sadistic officers handing out cruel, wicked punishments to men fed on putrid, rotting food who regularly indulged in acts of sodomy! The truth is, the royal Navy was a benevolent employer with a keen interest in the welfare of its men. Ships depended on vast amounts of healthy manpower to keep them afloat. Every ship carried a surgeon. Many of whom went on to become eminent physicians of their time and many discoveries and advances in medical science can be attributed to them. Injured sailors received a pension and, realising the value of healthy men, captains and pursers devoted much effort in procuring fresh water and food whenever possible. With the exception of voyages to America, West Indies or the Southern Ocean, ships were seldom far from land. The health and fitness of the men of the Royal Navy was a considerable contributing factor that enabled them to win every major engagement in which they were involved for over two hundred years. Britain did, indeed, rule the waves. It took a lot of manpower to work a man-of-war and every man was vital. A sailor flogged until his back bled was of no use at all, and the lash was used far more sparingly than we have been led to believe. Floggings did, however, occur when necessary. Discipline had to been maintained for the safety and efficient running of the ship and the most common offence was drunkenness, due to sailors hoarding or acquiring illicit supplies of alcohol. An inebriated sailor was a danger to himself, his mates and the ship. As water quickly became unfit to drink, sailors were, paradoxically, given a daily ration of beer and diluted rum which took care of their bodily need for fluids. The low alcohol content being worked off by the sheer physical nature of the work they had to do. Sailors, usually young men in their late teens and early twenties, had other bodily needs and the navy took care of that as well. Sexual frustration leading to fights, clumsiness and accidents was as much a hazard as drunkenness, storms or enemy action and not conducive to efficiency. As most voyages lasted about six weeks, sexual frustration, to the point of leading to sodomy, which was a hanging offence, did not occur. Prostitutes existed in abundance in every port and it was customary, before a ship sailed, to allow the women on board. 'Marguerite, Heroine or Whore' is at the moment, a working title. I am useless at coming up with good, imaginative titles that inspire the interest of would-be readers. The story is about Margaret, a destitute Huguenot silk weaver in eighteenth century London. When her husband fails to return from a rendezvous with someone offering him employment, Margaret goes in search of him and discovers that he has been pressed into service aboard a Royal Navy frigate. Having nowhere to go or means to support herself, she joins him on board but tragedy soon changes her circumstances. A naïve and righteous young woman she is determined to avoid the only salvation open to a woman in her situation and strenuously avoids descending into a world of prostitution but, in spite of her efforts to remain chaste, is raped and left with a child growing in her belly. A child that she believes, because of the circumstances of its conception, was sired by the devil. Adding to her misery she is afflicted with the scourge of the eighteenth century, the pox, the stigma of sin that could destroy her good looks and which she fears above all else. Sharing the trials and tribulations of a 'Jack Tar' Margaret survives a horrendous battle where, accredited with the killing of an enemy sailor, she assists the ship's surgeon in his grim task of amputating limbs and suturing terrible wounds. Called upon to interpret the language of a captured Frenchman Margaret is introduced to the soft comforts of gracious living and the low morality of the upper classes. In spite of her determination to avoid prostitution and unrequited love for the first lieutenant, she is abused by the captain. Unexpectedly finding the love of a decent man fate, however, is determined to deny her happiness. Following the cruel rape of slave women at the end of a voyage to the West Indies, she is attacked by men she once regarded her friends. Giving birth at sea to a child which, clearly, is not her man's, she is abandoned by him upon the ship's return to England. Once again alone, destitute and impoverished, hunger forces Margaret to forget her righteous principles and sell herself to anyone with cash in his pockets and lust in his loins. Determined not to remain a dockside molly, she sets out to attract a better clientèle and, as mistress to a gentleman, is presented to the most eminent fornicator in the land; His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent. Having climbed the social ladder, reaching the pinnacle of her hopes and dreams, fate cruelly intervenes when, in an argument with her benefactor, she believes she kills him and is forced to revert to her former means of survival; selling herself at the dockside gate. Now a fugitive, Margaret is determined to escape harsh, undeserved justice, and returns to the sea aboard a man-of-war commanded by Great Britain's most celebrated naval hero, Admiral Horatio Nelson. The story concludes with our heroin at Trafalgar and present at the death of the illustrious admiral and, having performed his dying wish, is denied her rightful place in British history.

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I've been reading and researching a couple of genres of writing lately - namely, American folk tales and ballad poems. Some of these have been quite interesting and entertaining. So, I started playing with both and came up with a whopper of a poem (a literal magnum opus!) that tells a story of a water witch who lived in the American midwest at the turn of the 20th century. The poem is narrated in the voice of one of the townsfolk, and tells the story of the water witch and of a terrible tornado that touches down near their town. As was common to the time, acts of nature and/or the unexplainable was attributed to God or other supernatural beings, and the story is perceived and interpreted as such. Sorry this summary is so long - I just wanted to explain the setting. ALSO - be forewarned! If you don't want to read a very LONG poem, this one's not for you! For more intrepid souls, your review and comments are very much appreciated.

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First try at a quatrain ... there are variations of this form so haven't a clue if this fits one. If not? Just a very short poem! Any and all feedback

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This is the true story of a boat trip in 1967. We encountered a fierce storm, a top secret facility that imprisoned us, a cab driver/undertaker/stock car driver, and the local motel owner, whose son, the sheriff, wanted to get on the top secret facility that sat in the middle of his jurisdiction. What I failed to mention when first posted was that this is a condensed version of the original story. The publisher of a Chesapeake Bay magazine asked me to cut the story to possibly run in the magazine. This version had 2000 words cut from the original. From the first three reviews it appears the cuts have made the story too sterile.

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My writing penchant is humour, so this one is unusual for me, but had to be written. Whether I should have posted it on tNBW is another matter. I find the saturation promotional advertising of up-coming tv programs to be extremely irritating. One in particular that was doing the rounds really p'd me off. As I lay in bed one night trying to sleep I got quite incensed. I could not sleep until I had grabbed my laptop computer and wrote down what was bounding around inside my skull. This is the result.

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This is my first attempt at a Haiku. As always, ANY feedback is greatly appreciated. By the way, since I predict I'm going to get a lot more questions on this by reviewers who have not done their Haiku homework, according to wiki, the Japanese count a long vowel syllable as two and a short vowel syllable as one. Thanks in advance!

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The ending is solid?

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