Captain Bill allowed the salt spray to waft gently around his hat. He took a moment to feel the roll of the ship beneath his hooves. This, he knew, was where he was supposed to be. This was where he was master.
'Hard a Portboard!' he called out.
Horace glanced nervously toward Norma.
'I don't think there is such a direction,' Norma whispered.
'Are you sure?' Captain Bill asked.
'Pretty confident,' Norma replied.
'Hmmmmmmmm,' Captain Bill said and he took a long look at his knitted compass. 'It doesn't seem to be on there. I was almost certain it used to be.'
'Things change,' Norma replied.
'Why?' Captain Bill asked. 'Why? Why do things have to change? It was a perfectly good direction. I remember at Captain School we did a whole day on it...that and ironing sails.'
'You wouldn't want creases,' Norma suggested.
'They marked you down for that,' Captain Bill replied. '...........Sinking, that was another thing...seemed petty to me. You could have a perfectly straight hat but as soon as they got a sniff of a sinking they were all over you.'
At that moment a large staple thudded into the deck beside Captain Bill.
'I thought you said she'd leave it behind?'
'Sorry,' Norma mooed. 'She is very resourceful.'
'Well, ignore her,' Captain Bill replied. 'She'll get bored.'
'HA!' Bertha called out from the Cows Nest and another staple landed on the other side of Captain Bill.
'She can't have that many of them up there,' Captain Bill reassured himself.
And another four staples hit the deck in rapid succession.
'So,' Norma asked, 'which direction?'
'Pfffffffff,' Captain Bill replied, '......................Not North?...........Maybe?'
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