Urchin
May 29th, 2007, 04:41:24 AM
The Compass, November 8th, 2000
Boys Clobbered by Storm, Die Mostly
After the storm that blew in last Friday, more than Billy McCready's boat was damaged. Turns out old Gatcher Morris, died year ago by drownin, was followed by his boys, John, Gordie, and Grady. What happened was that the old ship Gull Beak done get hammered by the waves that was record high on account of the winds.
The boys was known by all here in Grates Cove as good boys who was never ones to turn nothing down if noone had nothing that needed doing. Mrs. Ailene Nuggett said, "For sure, when my husband John died them Morris boys was always comin' round to do the work and never askin' for pay neither." This newspaperman is sure that more than just Mrs. Nuggett has a story like that about the boys.
Thanks be to the Lord that Mrs. Wavey Morris, the boys mother and Gatcher's widow, didn't lose all her sons. The youngest boy, called Tom after his father, managed to get to shore where he was found later by Jimmy Ross from St. Johns, who was visiting his uncle Billy Genge who is sick with the bronichles. Says Jimmy, "Buddy was soppin and had a face like a stomp'd on cod but was alive, by Jesus." Young Tom is recoverin in the hospital down in St. Johns and accordin to Colm Beagan of Harts Point Bay is doin well and will be back home in Grates Cove soon.
Our sympathies to the Morris family. Funerals for the other boys is to be held next week Sunday if nothin prevents it. Ladies feel welcome to bring some good dish to the after tea, which will be held at the house of Jack and Millie Procks place.
The Compass, January 14, 2000
Found in third paragraph of 'Community News- Grates Cove'
...and also Mrs. Wavey Morris wants to let all the friends in the cove know that her boy, Tom, is scarce to be found since the last scuff. If anyone come cross him, she asks that they please right his rudder back home.
***
He'd just come off the ship after a years stint of shuttling back and forth between Vina del Mar and Valparaiso, and all Tom Morris the Junior could think of was getting his hands on a cigarette. Twelve months of grunt labour and easy sailing in the hottest air he'd ever felt wasn't exactly torture, but on the trip home he'd lost his last pack in a poker game and was positively hungering for the nicotine. Tom smoked like a trooper and was dying to light up in front of one of those annoying TRUTH billboards that were everywhere in New York, declaring the massive death toll caused by Marlboro and the like.
The man had enough stubble and windburned face to him to be stereotypically nautical. It didn't help that he was wearing a knit toque pulled low over his ears, or that over one shoulder was slung a navy tote bag. Thankfully in this city he could go unnoticed--well, as long as he stayed out of the water, Tom mused as he clunkered into a drugstore.
Once inside he remembered that he needed more than just cigarettes, and so grabbed a basket and quickly filled it with various toiletries. There was a special on mens deoderant and Tom took advantage to stock up while filling his basket with other items; toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, razor, Mortons salt, bottle of water, chewing gum. When he was finished the tall man paid for his things at the counter, along with a fresh pack of his favoured brand, and quickly shuttered himself out to stand at the curb.
Tom's rough hands had soon liberated a smoke from the pack, and the man was fast at lighting it. He took a long pull, closing his eyes, and let the smoke trail from his mouth slowly.
"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph R. Smallwood." Tom murmered with the enthusiasm of a man well satisfied. He took another drag before digging his bottle of water and the salt package out. With practiced movements, Tom poured out a few inches of water and then proceeded to dump salt in with a liberal hand. Cigarette dangling from loose lips, the man twisted on the lid and gave the bottle a shake. It grew cloudy as the salt granules were swirled about. Happy with the appearance, Tom pushed his smoke to one side of his mouth while he sipped the salted liquid on the other. The combination was nirvana. "Mmm."
After stowing the rest of his purchases in his duffell, Tom continued his stroll through the city streets, at a much more leisurely pace now that his needs had been attended to. It was his third time in New York and it hadn't changed much from his memories.
Tom was so absorbed in enjoying his vice and taking in the scenery as he rounded the corner, that he did not see the bustling figure until it banged smack into him. Caught off balance the sailor stumbled, cursed, and dropped both his water and cigarette. They landed in a sad heap, the water extinguishing the glowing cylinder as it gushed out over the sidewalk. A jab of anger flashed through Tom and he glared at the clumsy dope who'd nearly flattened him.
"Lard tunderin' Jesus b'y, what the hell's y'doin', goin' right da wing round the corner like dat?" Tom roared, his face reddening in considerable contrast to his black toque. "I's got a mind t'clout ya, me nerves is rubbed that raw!"
Boys Clobbered by Storm, Die Mostly
After the storm that blew in last Friday, more than Billy McCready's boat was damaged. Turns out old Gatcher Morris, died year ago by drownin, was followed by his boys, John, Gordie, and Grady. What happened was that the old ship Gull Beak done get hammered by the waves that was record high on account of the winds.
The boys was known by all here in Grates Cove as good boys who was never ones to turn nothing down if noone had nothing that needed doing. Mrs. Ailene Nuggett said, "For sure, when my husband John died them Morris boys was always comin' round to do the work and never askin' for pay neither." This newspaperman is sure that more than just Mrs. Nuggett has a story like that about the boys.
Thanks be to the Lord that Mrs. Wavey Morris, the boys mother and Gatcher's widow, didn't lose all her sons. The youngest boy, called Tom after his father, managed to get to shore where he was found later by Jimmy Ross from St. Johns, who was visiting his uncle Billy Genge who is sick with the bronichles. Says Jimmy, "Buddy was soppin and had a face like a stomp'd on cod but was alive, by Jesus." Young Tom is recoverin in the hospital down in St. Johns and accordin to Colm Beagan of Harts Point Bay is doin well and will be back home in Grates Cove soon.
Our sympathies to the Morris family. Funerals for the other boys is to be held next week Sunday if nothin prevents it. Ladies feel welcome to bring some good dish to the after tea, which will be held at the house of Jack and Millie Procks place.
The Compass, January 14, 2000
Found in third paragraph of 'Community News- Grates Cove'
...and also Mrs. Wavey Morris wants to let all the friends in the cove know that her boy, Tom, is scarce to be found since the last scuff. If anyone come cross him, she asks that they please right his rudder back home.
***
He'd just come off the ship after a years stint of shuttling back and forth between Vina del Mar and Valparaiso, and all Tom Morris the Junior could think of was getting his hands on a cigarette. Twelve months of grunt labour and easy sailing in the hottest air he'd ever felt wasn't exactly torture, but on the trip home he'd lost his last pack in a poker game and was positively hungering for the nicotine. Tom smoked like a trooper and was dying to light up in front of one of those annoying TRUTH billboards that were everywhere in New York, declaring the massive death toll caused by Marlboro and the like.
The man had enough stubble and windburned face to him to be stereotypically nautical. It didn't help that he was wearing a knit toque pulled low over his ears, or that over one shoulder was slung a navy tote bag. Thankfully in this city he could go unnoticed--well, as long as he stayed out of the water, Tom mused as he clunkered into a drugstore.
Once inside he remembered that he needed more than just cigarettes, and so grabbed a basket and quickly filled it with various toiletries. There was a special on mens deoderant and Tom took advantage to stock up while filling his basket with other items; toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, razor, Mortons salt, bottle of water, chewing gum. When he was finished the tall man paid for his things at the counter, along with a fresh pack of his favoured brand, and quickly shuttered himself out to stand at the curb.
Tom's rough hands had soon liberated a smoke from the pack, and the man was fast at lighting it. He took a long pull, closing his eyes, and let the smoke trail from his mouth slowly.
"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph R. Smallwood." Tom murmered with the enthusiasm of a man well satisfied. He took another drag before digging his bottle of water and the salt package out. With practiced movements, Tom poured out a few inches of water and then proceeded to dump salt in with a liberal hand. Cigarette dangling from loose lips, the man twisted on the lid and gave the bottle a shake. It grew cloudy as the salt granules were swirled about. Happy with the appearance, Tom pushed his smoke to one side of his mouth while he sipped the salted liquid on the other. The combination was nirvana. "Mmm."
After stowing the rest of his purchases in his duffell, Tom continued his stroll through the city streets, at a much more leisurely pace now that his needs had been attended to. It was his third time in New York and it hadn't changed much from his memories.
Tom was so absorbed in enjoying his vice and taking in the scenery as he rounded the corner, that he did not see the bustling figure until it banged smack into him. Caught off balance the sailor stumbled, cursed, and dropped both his water and cigarette. They landed in a sad heap, the water extinguishing the glowing cylinder as it gushed out over the sidewalk. A jab of anger flashed through Tom and he glared at the clumsy dope who'd nearly flattened him.
"Lard tunderin' Jesus b'y, what the hell's y'doin', goin' right da wing round the corner like dat?" Tom roared, his face reddening in considerable contrast to his black toque. "I's got a mind t'clout ya, me nerves is rubbed that raw!"