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What ever became of the old 'Tincat'?

The story is easily told:

Once, the finest of the fishing fleet, it would sail out from that West Country harbour, its gold and green hull glittering in the dazzling sunlight: to bring home another bumper harvest of silver from the sea.

Legends of its audacity and enterprise spread through town & country - and how so many tried to imitate its success!

But within this success there must have lain the seeds of its ultimate failure.

For the skipper, it is said, went quite mad.

Some tell of the time when it all went to his head and notions of ever larger catches filled his waking dreams - a home grown catch then seemed small fry to him and he grew restless. His imagination spread far and wide - further and wider - he wanted the nets bigger, the catches huger and wanted to explore distant seas in pursuit of brilliant golden fish. Silver fish now seemed dull.

Alarm spread through the crew's quarters as charts were purchased of warm and unfamiliar oceans - routes to the Chinese straits were to be seen pinned to the walls of the cabin as the captain made his mad midnight vigils: planning, planning.

Already the boat was proving hard to handle, packed, as it was, to the gunnels as it brought in its daily riches.

The day came for the Great Expedition to start - and for 'The Tincat' to sail away for the final time. Not all the crew were by then still on board, however: the captain threw off all who did not subscribe to his creed.

It was also the wise choice of the ships cats (it being such a successful vessel there was a quartet of them) to stay on Terra Firma that day (along with three 'borrowed' boxes of yesterday's catch, a mouse or two and the ship's anchor - just so the Ancient Mariner would find no rest).

What became of Mad Captain Merry is not recorded - perhaps he wanders still.

The cats soon found comfy berths in the town and would look out on fair days and starlit nights (or best of all when it was blowing a foul tempest) and remember their former lives.

One of the abandoned sailors set up a little business in the harbour.

With his little rowing boat he would take day trippers on little inshore adventures in Summer and spend the Winter wittling souveniers from drift wood with his pen knife.

In the 'Golden Tabernacle' of an evening he would tell yarns of his adventures and some would ask if he was not sorry to forsake his life of adventure.

Did he not wish he was still with the crew of 'The Tincat' and had sailed away with them all that time ago?

'No', he would say, 'There's always time for adventure tomorrow: a man's life is at home and home is where is to be found his home. And if he must go to sea then it is far better that he loves many, trusts few and always paddles his own canoe'.