chilli sweats 1

I was on deck; the sun was shining; it was 11 a.m.. I had done all my menial duties, life was good now. I looked directly

into the sun just long enough for it to burn its power and unrelenting warmth into my inner cortex.
Naturally I felt like a drink. If only to show my appreciation for the unfolding power,luminosity and warmth that was
demonstrated for all to see. The immensity of the universe and beyond, was there in its glinting eye.
This was the luminosity that Darwin had neglected to observe, I thought to myself.

I remembered - oh so well - the whiskey I had hidden from him, the other one. And at this moment, I chose to break all rules
and drink from its forbidden chalice.
I visualized, so exactly, the small wooden trunk beneath my bunk: it made me wonder why had I not been there before.

My only reasoning was that now must be the time; the time to taste that single malt that took so much trouble to acquire and
save from the spawn-like abuse of friendship.
I went below;I was almost invisible, or so I imagined, safe in the certainty that no-one could suspect my planned secretive
orgy of whiskey before midday.

As I entered my cabin, the sun was still glinting through my meager porthole. Short of breath through excitement, I withdrew
the box from below the bunk.  I should just add, this was no normal box.
This box contained all pertinent details of my previous lives, including multiple passports and ID`s, and - even more
importantly - the Tesla notes that mysteriously had disappeared after his strange death. And other trinkets that I am not,
even now, in a position to mention.
One could understand why the box had been made from multiple exotic timbers laminated into an exquisite lattice whose purpose
was to withstand a strong man with a sharp axe attacking said box for 4 hours or more. Fortunately this had not occurred ,
partly due to my discretion and partly due to other techniques that will remain secret.

The padlock(such that it seemed) could be opened by the possessor of the key. I had that key.
I opened the box.
The interior of the box was in shadow from my bunk, but I clearly saw the whiskey. I went to grab it, then I noticed the
writing on the underside of the lid.
I had NOT written on the lid!.
Again it was that damn HB pencil that I had traversed the globe to get away from. Those dribbling letters flowing like slime
from top to bottom, in their sickeningly ugly beauty.
I tried to focus to read them but at that same moment it became dark.
The weather had changed. It was not unusual here to experience sudden changes in weather. The sun through the porthole had
gone. But there was more.
The engines were throbbing at full pelt. This WAS rare,I could tell they were at full pelt , because the pipes through my
cabin that also served as heating elements were rattling, at a rate that shouted the engine was indeed at full throttle and
beyond.
Yes, this circumstance was rare. Everything including my mood had changed. It was now nearly dark and the engines were going
crazy. I grabbed the whiskey quickly, opening the seal, and gulped a few. I sat on my bunk for what seemed like an hour to
try to grasp what the hell was happening. It was in fact a few seconds, my adrenalin was peaking.
Things had been getting a bit weird since we used the Tesla technology on the engines, but this was more extreme than I had
predicted.

I went into panic mode, my head was screaming "sort it!": it was my fault.
I took another healthy gulp from the single malt and got on my feet.I made my way to the deck, I knew I had to somehow shut
those hybrids down.
When I arrived on deck the sea was monstrous, the sky was dark as death, and nobody was to be seen.
I threw a glance at the wheel-house , it looked empty.
The boat was rocking now, and the waves were wild , they had a countenance that one sees but once in a lifetime.
I rushed and struggled  to the wheel-house, with the sole thought of shutting the engines down.
The boat was rolling more extremely than I had ever experienced, but I managed to make my way up the precarious stairway
into the wheel house.
Of course, I was shocked to see the wheel-house and deck empty of crew, but, deep down, I knew and expected it to be so.
I grabbed the wheel in an effort to turn the boat into the bizarre mutant waves.
I couldn`t believe it. It was fixed solid, immovable as if it had been welded. It was absolutely welded solid , non turnable.

I grabbed at the twin throttles to reduce the crazed engine over-spin, again they were immovable, they too were welded firm
at full throttle.
It was at this point I saw the large pinnacle shaped rock dead ahead. We were heading straight at it.A 300ft high piece of

uncharted rock in the Indian ocean. How can this be? Again I struggled with the wheel and the throttles; it made no

difference. A lifetime passed as I stood there helpless, paralyzed and confused in fear.At the moment the boat struck the
rock, I woke up drenched in sweat and as cold as ice in my bunk.