andy cannon
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Everything posted by andy cannon
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Very good chapter!
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That is a naughty chapter, and I love it!
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Chapter 26 - Out!
andy cannon commented on Adam Andrews Johnson's story chapter in Chapter 26 - Out!
I was today years old when I learned that a club called the Phallus Phactory was the place to go to see naked women. The Mermaid's Throne on the other hand.... -
That couldn't have gone much worse for Jimmy. I'm glad he got through it.
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Gaah! Feelings! I'm not crying, you're crying!
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Shorter chapter this time, next one is going to be much longer. You packed a lot into a small package!
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A really engrossing chapter.
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Very tender scene in the secluded clearing. I look forward to seeing what transpires in Chicago.
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If the Wedding Industrial Complex gets wind of you portraying a ceremony that costs less than 10 months of income, you can expect an assassin to be headed your way!
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Oh, most assuredly!
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The Moment They Knew Quarterdeck, Dusk The sun sank, gilding the horizon and stretching shadows across the deck of HMS Absolute, softening the day's grime. The wind had slackened, the sails hung loose in their sheets, and the ship rocked gently. Lieutenant William Pitt stood near the rail, posture exact, hands clasped behind his back. His coat was buttoned high despite the humid air, his collar sharp. He stared east, where Saint Lucia lay just beyond the haze, and his jaw set and
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I dip my standard and doff my hat to you, sir!
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Excellent question, and one that I didn't resolve explicitly in the story. Based on actions and roles, I think it works out to Pitt as First, followed by Vane, Avery, Morris and then some minor characters who just have an appearance or two. The mids are Gordon as senior, followed by O'Brien, then Blake and Douglas before the less-used characters.
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Those law and order, by the book types always seem to scream about the downfall of society and then deliberately engineer the very chaos they warned about.
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You nailed it! I only now realized that his comment, "the wind has shifted... stay out of the rigging" has a metaphorical meaning as well, a warning about the campaign Vane is waging against them, but then Pitt's prescience about the fall from the rigging has to be accounted for, ad I would have no answer to that.
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That's a healthy reaction.
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The Line Strains Quarterdeck, Late Afternoon The sun hung low in the sky, veiled in gauze-like cloud, turning the sea to tarnished silver. Lieutenant Pitt stood near the binnacle, one hand resting lightly on the housing, the other gripping a folded sheet of watch list. His brow was faintly furrowed, the only outward sign of his irritation. Lieutenant Kit Avery stood beside him, his jacket collar open in disregard for regulation and his expression somewhere between amus
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True! and he's getting worse!
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As I was reading this chapter through one last time before posting it, I did wonder what the heck was I thinking when he wrote that? He may need to toss his diary to the sharks in the next chapter.
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A Hand at the Helm Amber light fractured across the map-strewn table; the wardroom was hushed. The usual din of tea cups, log books, and easy chatter had not yet begun; only the faint creak of the hull and the sigh of sails overhead reminded them the ship was still, tethered in the calm waters off Barbados. Lieutenant Vane sat alone at the far end of the table, one long finger tracing the lip of his tin cup. His eyes were on the letter. It had been handed to him just momen
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Under the Quarterdeck Awning As he sun climbed, the stench of sickness rose with it. By order of the surgeon, the sick bay had been emptied, cots dragged up one by one, their occupants blinking or moaning in the sudden light. Sailors moved carefully, stepping over buckets of seawater and mounds of damp linen. In the lower decks, crew scrubbed the wooden bulkheads with vinegar and salt, while a slow column of bitter-smelling smoke curled up from a pot of burning rosemary and juni
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Yeah, you can see that one coming down the pike.
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It's the way of families everywhere, isn't it? No matter how successful you are, no matter how many medals you have won, no matter how much respect you have accrued, there is always an older brother who remembers you couldn't remember which shoe went on which foot for months.
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Not Dying Sickbay -- the Fifth Day When the young midshipman arrived on the evening of the fifth day to read to the officer, Mr. Turner gave him a brief update. The fevers seemed lower, still too high, but improved. All patients were resting more comfortably, though none had come alert. The surgeon opened the shutters over the grate high on the bulkhead in the vain hope of easing the stifling heat in the sickbay, then retired to his bolthole for some much-needed rest. The lad was good
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Certainly I have not been as scrupulous about the dates on replies as I should be, generally opting for a four-week lag rather than a more realistic eight-to-ten week period. It seems that there was a vigorous rotation of ships between the UK and distant fields of conflict, but news was slow to come, It must have been like playing a chess game by mail, and the Admiralty was always responding to circumstances that had long since changed.
