The Yellow River Exploration

To my gracious and charming Princess Celestia, in the 603rd YR, my 7,235th letter

In my previous letter, I recounted our crew, now let me describe our little ship. Basically white with teak trim dual mast ship, a single jump wide and about 2 gallops long. The wheel bench is large and accommodates 6 of us. The main mast is 2 & ½ gallops tall with an oak halyard or boom. The bow mast is 2 gallops tall and can run 3 bow sheets or jibs, plus a spinnacle. There is also a bow or forward hatch, directly aft of the bow mast.

From bow to aft, below deck is the forward cabin, which the Wing sisters and Miss Broom occupy. Next on the starboard side is our tiny head, directly opposite is a two berth bunk. I have the lower bunk and Sea Salt took the upper. Next, moving aft, is the galley table on the port side with the galley on the starboard, and finally the door hatch leading to the wheel bench. Beneath the wheel bench and beyond the door hatch is the ‘captains’ closet’. Supposedly a cabin, but too small for me, so after some discussion Sea Salt and I agreed that Mr. Pass should occupy it. Jelly Bread sleeps in the galley, sometimes on the table, sometimes next to it, and sometimes on the floor as when Mr. Pass needs the table to draw his mapping.

The sleeping arrangements are not written in stone, as we sometimes borrow each other’s more spacious bunks when others have watch duty. We maintain at all times two of us on deck, sometimes more, and I do try to avoid sleeping in the forward cabin. Miss Broom’s paints smell oily and rancid.

As we have no charts for this river, I am pressed into service whenever we become stranded on sand bars. My size and strength are sufficient to nudge, rock, or pull us free from such obstacles. Sometimes the locals will help as long as they don’t get wet. They fear the river and joke that I am a river serpent as they see me, up to my shoulders in water, pulling our little boat against the current.

However, for the locals, the further up the river we go, our little boat is the biggest thing many of them have seen. There are no bridges and trade between the river sides is restricted to small dug outs and rafts. I cannot hear it, but Brush Broom and Jelly Bread say that they can hear a small difference in the accent of the tongue between the river sides. Local river boaters (those who make their living on the river by boating) have confirmed this observation in hysterics. They now call us kin and are helpful with our inquires.

We fly your cutie mark on our main sheet or sail; we also have golden red pennants flying from the bow and main mast. At night we hang paper lanterns (a local tradition) off the sides of our little boat. The boaters soon surround us and join us in party, song and stories of lore. The last of which we find most useful. One of my favorites is of the five fingered black dragon and his love for tea.

I have been reluctant to tell you the name of our little boat, and I would have changed her name, if not for the legendary curse of changing the name of a ship. It pricks me a bit as I know or suspect that you may have difficulty with the name as well. Enough hesitation, the little boat came with the name ‘Midnight’s Lament’. We call her Lammy for short, and we hope the name does not foretell ill tidings.

In all my generosity, loyalty, trustworthiness, humor and kindness, Sum-po-neigh Knot Yew.