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February 13, 2008

Wednesday

Semaphore.

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Jim: Literacy or Litter At Sea?

Bosun’s Mate Hitchens stood smartly at attention on the heaving deck. “Yes, sir,” he replied to the Captain, whose eyes glinted grey in the gathering gloom. “That’s what the semaphores from the flagship ordered.”

“It’s damned odd,” the Captain murmured. “But it’s too dark to request clarification. You’re dismissed.”

Hitchens knuckled a salute and went below. He’d scored much higher in knot tying than in signals at the Academy but knew he’d read the message correctly. He grinned in satisfaction as the frigate turned hard to port in the stormy night.

And directly into the guns of the Spanish Armada.

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Jeff R.: Mixed Signals

We were like two ships, passing in the night. Wait, no: we were on two ships, passing in the night. Neither of us had radios, but we both had signal flags.

I asked if she came here often. She asked if I said that to all the girls. I said only the pretty ones. She laughed, then realized I couldn't hear her, and so signaled "ha ha" over and over again.

Then I sneezed and tripped over a stray cannonball, and by the time I got up I'd said something hideously rude about her mother. I never saw her again.

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