Captain's Log- Minor Setbacks

The sisters Norton boarded the Unicorn with three sets of luggage. The younger Miss Norton bearing mostly tea dresses and some clothes fit for travel and varied climes, though she may have had something or other for fancy evening occasions (not that we're like to find them any time soon!)

Sphinx, I fear, is to blame for the excess-- in addition to the silk pyjama-like outfit she considers decent for wearing about the ship, she has packed nothing I would expect for an enterprising adventuress (I know that there is a trade in clothes for the adventuress!). Instead, she has brought one wardrobe of the sort of thing you'd wear to an opera, and a complete second wardrobe of menswear!

I found it difficult to believe that a lady of... womanly proportions, shall we say, could ever pass in public as a man, but she showed me an ingenious padded corset of her own design, thickened around the waist and at the underarm, which is capable of transforming the daintiest hourglass figure into a solid manly torso. We discussed her plans for a compression pant which would flatten down any overly-curvy appearance in the limbs and give those a manlier sillhouette as well, though under trousers, it's not so much a priority. She also displayed a collection of false moustaches and a short wig which I found rather impressive.

Aside from the occasional concealment of gender, Sphinx seems the most honest sort, and I don't see her flair for disguise as cause for worry-- doubt she's a bank robber or anything, just an actress. And I suppose there are places where two women living alone would be taken advantage of by salesmen or tradesmen, certainly talked down to by doctors, a chief complaint of the Nortons.

Well, our crew being not too great in number, the weight of the additional wardrobe doesn't bother me. No, the minor setbacks I refer to go by the names Oscar and Conan.

My pigeon problem persists. Oscar is perhaps the most indolent cat to walk this earth! Erm, or to float listlessly through the skies over this earth. Conan does not seem opposed to a little excercise, but is absolutely terrified of going out on-deck where the pigeons plague us. His mistress is no help, revealing her own worry that a sharp turn or a buffetting wind might send one of her precious darlings slipping off the deck. I don't see a cat Oscar's size falling through the railing... but then again, would he be that size if he did any work?

Well, at the very least, when we're in dock, we won't pick up any serious pest problem. Conan has diligently patrolled the hold for mice (nonexistent) and moths (nonthreatening), and our food supply is in perfect safety.

The caverns are in sight now, but we'll wait for the morning to start our foray.

Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn