On Friday, September 28, 2001 3:10 PM, Bjorn Vang Jensen wrote:

> Could you please tell us the story of the Admiral, the ceremonial cannons
> and the jet-propelled effluent...?

I'm almost positive that I've told this one before, but in case I haven't it
begins in Hong Kong - a name that apparently translates into, 'Perfumed
Harbour'!  :-)

In the days before land reclamation, when every second bar in Wanchai
claimed a connection with Suzie Wong and a visit to Pinky's tattoo parlour
was high on the list of, "I-must-not-go-there-regardless-of
how-much-beer-I-drink", places to avoid, (Hah!), Hong Kong was a great
destination for R&R.

Late one evening three sailors - who shall remain nameless!!! - returned to
their ship, berthed along side the wall, in the Naval base:  An
establishment just a short stagger from the cultural delights of Wanchai.
Passing the administration building their attention was caught by the sight
of two ceremonial cannons flanking the entrance way.  Having a keen interest
in physics they decided to see if one of them would float, and pushed it to
the side and over the edge of the jetty.  They waited a short while to see
if it would re-surface.  It didn't.  And so they returned to their ship,
clambered into their hammocks and slept the sleep of the innocent! :-)

Fortunately their were several ships berthed alongside, including US and
Australian vessels.  With so many potential suspects it was impossible for
the Admiral to determine who was responsible for the loss of one of his
cannons.  Knowing that it hadn't passed the sentries on the main gate, he
came to the obvious conclusion that it lay at the bottom of the harbour and,
in an ironic twist of fate, our dive team was tasked with the search and
recovery.

We kitted up in dry-suits and neoprene hoods that - because we'd spent a lot
of time searching ship's bums for things that shouldn't be there - we'd
adapted to hold a salt-water activated battery-operated lamp in a 'U'-shaped
clamp, so that our hands would be left free.  As it was day-time we
dispensed with the lamps - but the prong remained in place.

We searched in vain for the cannon.  Visibility was down to zero because we
had to feel our way through an enormous layer of silt.  Ultimately we had to
admit defeat - and for all I know there's still a cannon down there
somewhere buried deep, deep down in the mud.

Following the dive we climbed back on to the quarter-deck to report our lack
of success to the waiting Admiral.  He stood there looking at me in disgust.
Everyone that I moved towards backed quickly away, some grimacing and others
laughing and pointing.  Finally a hose was turned on me.  It appears that,
on surfacing, the clamp had neatly speared a large turd.  :-)

"Perfumed Harbour"?  Hah! :-)

As the Chief said, "In the shit again, eh, lad?"  :-)

Strike