Chilli sweats 4

Chilli Sweats 4
Forgive the rough writing here, as it shows more the true nature of a drunken sailor.

Everything ran through my mind now.  “This can’t be true.”  Everything ran

through my mind.  I had to compute so much; it was beyond me.  After some

computing I realised:  if that me got back to that boat, my boat, and went

away, I would be stuck on this giant, black, messy, evil hulk from hell!  I had

to do something.  I had to act.  I didn’t have much time!  Now!  I have to

think!  I have to do the math – what the hell am I going to do?  If that me

goes down those steps, unties the boat and drives off, I’m stuck here!  Here in

this big, black, armageddon of hulking, black mass of burnt-out iron.

What to do?  I gently stepped back into the dining room.  I left the door open

- I didn’t want to make any noise – just to give me time to think, because if

there was any time to think in this world, it was now.  Finally I had made a

decision: I had to confront this, this me, this other me.  I thought I would

put the axe down.  I went out of the door and walked in the direction in which

the other me had passed.  At first, I could see nothing, it was so foggy, but

then I made out a dark figure and I heard it shout, “Hello!  Hello!”.  I

cautiously, quietly said, “Hello.”, from behind it.

The figure turned.  In that moment of its turning, everything that I had

thought changed.  When it turned I saw the face. It was me but was much older

than me.  I could see the wrinkles of the face.  I could see the tired look in

the eyes.  I could see stress and a darkness and something else I had never

seen. This face had been somewhere I hadn’t been.These eyes were dark and

hollow compared to mine.  Then I had to think, “What should I say?” but I just

couldn’t think straight.

Fortunately,as the face turned to me - that wrinkled, grey, tired, spooky face

said to me, “Oh, I’m so glad.  I’ve been trying to find you." The big, blue,

scary, starey eyes cut into my inner soul.  And then this apparition said,

“Thank God!  I’ve been looking for you.  Thank God I’ve found you.  I need to

tell you something.  It’s really, really important.”

Until this point, my main motivation and fear had been that it was going to get

back to the boat, my boat, untie it and drive off, leaving me alone on this

big, black, scary hulk of a ship. Strangely, I felt suddenly relieved that this

wasn’t the situation.  This was a new situation.  I had to listen.  But

suddenly, at this point, somebody kicked open one of the side doors, jumped

out, ran toward us and swung an axe, hitting the spooky apparition in the back.

I was sure it must have killed it. instantly.  The perpetrator then ran away

very quickly, so fast that I couldn’t see who it was. It was so foggy, it was

dark with fog.

My immediate thought was, “Oh my God! I was going to learn something really,

very important.” And this other perpetrator had stopped some very important

information being imparted to me.  My first feelings were absolute shock but,

more than that, disappointment.  I really had believed that this other older me

had been going to tell me something so crucial to my future that everything

would depended upon it.  Everything!

The perpetrator had proceeded to run away at a very fast speed and disappear

into the deep fog.  I could hear the footsteps fading into the distance.  I had

no inclination in me to follow. After all, I had put my axe down.  God!  What a

joke this was, the realisation that I could not follow and my only hope of

finding out what was going on was lying on the floor bleeding with an axe in

the back.  The situation was getting worse and worse.  Initially I had just

been worried about getting back to the boat.  Who was this?  Was my boat going

to be stolen?  Was I going to be stuck?  My biggest concern was that I was

going to be stuck here, on this damned boat, this ship, this black hulk.

I went back and got my axe, just for protection and decided quite quickly and

cleanly, “Just get back to my boat, and get the hell out of here.”, so that’s

what I did.  I got my axe,  picked it up and gripped it, did some practice

swings, left over shoulder, right over shoulder.  I used some Wing Chun Kung Fu

and Tai Chi moves, anything just to warm up.  I was in trouble here.  Then I

got out of the door and started walking cautiously along the gangway.

I stepped over the body.  It was dead; It was gone; It was finished.  Whatever

It had had to say to me, it was too damned late.  All I had to concern myself

with was getting back to my boat and getting the hell out of here, hopefully

without that other axe-murdering maniac stepping onto my boat.  Anyway, it felt

like a quarter of a mile or a half a mile to get back to the stairway.  I got

there moving slowly and, obviously carefully.

Once I got there, I stepped onto the stairway.  It rattled, which upset me a

little bit, banging against the side, made noise.  I did not need noise right

now.  I needed stealth, so I tip toed down that stairway like I’d never tip

toed before.  I  needed to get back on my boat, get the hell out of Dodge.  I

got halfway down and I stopped and listened.  This time there was nothing.  No,

“Hello!”.  No nothing.  Thank God!  I carried on down.  It would have been easy

to be sloppy but I kept my concentration.  I did not make a single sound on

that stairway, I swear to you.

I got back to the bottom of the stairway, untied the knot I had made,

carefully.  It’s a kind of reef knot of complexity that’s easy-peasy but so

efficient.  It seems to me that many sailors have many knots but I have just

one.  It’s super-duper efficient and it’s very simple.  I just pulled the end

and the rope came undone, as it should and always does.

I jumped, only a meter onto the boat.  Phew!  I thought, “I’ll worry about the

over-unity motors later; I’ll get them working later.  Obviously, I’ll run out

of diesel, that’s a secondary thing.  Number One is: Get the hell away from

this black, steel hulk and whoever the hell that was.”  Anyway, once I’d gone

down and turned the diesel back on, the motors started up immediately.

Fortunately the turbos hadn’t blown the diesel motors, so everything was cool.

Chug, chug, chug, chug ... off  we went.  We moved lovelly, beautifully away.

My heart was lifted as I stood on the bridge, and – chug, chug, chug, chug –

off  we went.  Maybe six knots, seven knots, that was fine ...just get the

bloody hell out of here.  It was actually dark now, it wasn’t just fog, it was

dark .  I was tempted to turn the spots on but I thought, “No, just get away.

Don’t give any sign of where or what you are, just get away.” And that’s what I

did.

I was at least half a mile away and I flicked the spots on, just to have a

quick look ahead of me, but it was pointless.  The light just reflected back

from the fog, so I turned the spots off.  I thought I’d just drive blind and

trust to the fact that anywhere would be better than there.  I chugged away and

the further I got away from that boat, the better I felt.

After half an hour of moving away, during which I’d turned the engines up and

had been getting up to about twenty knots, we were moving away seriously.  I

must have been several good kilometres away from that bugger.  I was feeling a

little bit brighter and really felt: “God!  I’ve just been through the mill

here.  Things were pretty grim and I’m out of there.  I’m safe.  I’m out of

there, I’m safe.”  I hadn’t even had the time to think: “Where is everybody?

What’s going on?  Why’s it dark?”  That was a different issue.

I thought now: “We’re in the middle of the Indian Ocean.  I could turn it onto

auto-pilot and it would be cool.  So that’s what I did.  I turned on the auto-

pilot, set a course,for Uvongo beach, I thought I’d get the hell out of there.

It was going to be four, five, six hours before I arrived there, so I thought

I’d go and get some shut-eye.  I was away from some real, deep shit, and I

thought I’d worry about it in the morning.  I felt a little bit safe; it felt

safe.  So I just turned on the auto-pilot –okay, it was very primitive, fuck

me, it was not nineteen nineties stuff, it was maybe ‘sixty eight, maybe

‘seventy five, stuff.  We just didn’t have GPS.  So the auto-pilot would keep

the steering straight and I’d got radar set up previously so that if anything

came up on the radar, a beep-beep-beep alarm would go off in my cabin.  It was

pretty cool.

So everything was pretty cool.  I thought I’d go and get some shut-eye and

everything would look better in the morning.  The sun would come up.  For God’s

sake, the sun would come up.  The fog would clear and I would see some sense

and sensibility, some bloody reality.  Fair enough, I felt fairly confident I

could leave the bridge, we were literally miles from anywhere.  I could let the

thing tick over – bom, bom, bom.  My only concern was, the next morning I must

sort out the over-unity device because I was going to run out of diesel.  I

couldn’t even get to shore with the diesel I had.  We’d been so reliant on that

thing.

I set all the controls to neutral, plotted a course for Uvongo and I went down

the stairway to my cabin and thought: “Sod it, I’ll get some sleep.  I need

some sleep.  It’s freaking me out, this.  I’ll get some sleep and everything

will be fine tomorrow.”   I slept like a baby.

I woke with the sun shining through my porthole.  My eyes were a little bit

crusty as I opened them up.  Maybe I had been crying in my sleep.  Shocking,

shocking time.  Anyway, it was sunny.  The relief!  Actually, when you wake,

you just feel calm and normal.  It’s only when you think of what’s been

happening it soaks in whether you should feel happy, sad, frightened, shocked

... or terrified!  As it happened, that morning I just felt relieved.  I could

hear the chugging of the engines; they weren’t going crazy, that was good.  It

wasn’t foggy, it was sunny, it was good.  I felt warm and safe in my bed, that

was good.  So I rested there for a moment, trying to absorb what had happened,

not that I could really.  Realistically, I think it would have been impossible

for anybody to absorb.

I lay there for a moment, thinking.  Reflecting: what had happened?  I felt

okay enough just to lie there for a while.  I was avoiding reality.  There was

nobody on the bridge, not unless things had gone back to the normal world,

which had parted company with me some time back.  Ha!so what if there was

nobody on the bridge.  The engines were ticking over,  we were doing maybe

nine, ten, knots, I don’t know, but normally you’d have somebody up there

keeping an eye open, you know, keeping a watch.  Obviously, there was nobody

watching, unless things had returned to normal and I thought that was a little

bit too much to hope for.

So, anyway,  I lay there.  I tried to relax.  I thought I’d give myself the

luxury of meditating for a moment, just to get some perspective.  If I could

just meditate myself into a situation where I was just an observer, as the

reality really is, and if I was just consciousness, everything would be fine.

But, as we often find out, good as you may be at meditating – or anything else

– reality can kick you in the arse.  I was fully aware of this.  So I lay there

anyway and tried to relax my toes, relax my feet, relax my calves, relax my

thighs, relax my hips, relax my stomach, relax my chest, relax my arms, relax

my shoulders, relax my eyes, relax my face, etc., etc....anybody that knows

about meditation will know this.  I was finding it a little bit difficult but I

was calming and accepted that meditation might be the best way of dealing with

my extreme situation.  Often it is.

Anyway, it was working, everything was peaceful.  Then I just heard something

walk by the door.  My door.  It threw my meditation quite severely because  I

thought, “Hey!  I don’t know what situation I’m in – maybe it’s just normal,

maybe it’s cool, or are we still back in Weird City?  I don’t know.”  I didn’t

know.  I couldn’t know without finding out.  So that actually absolutely ruined

my meditation .  I was disappointed because I was just at that point where

things were feeling pretty good.  I had felt calm, I was just an observer of

this lunacy of the universe and then suddenly I had to protect my essence, my

life, my vital force.  I had to make sure I was okay.  After all, it is our

job.  It is our fundamental job as human beings to survive.

So, with that in mind, I jumped out of bed.  I forced myself.  I put on some

basic clothes and sat down on my bench and thought about what course of action

I should take. How should I approach this situation, which could be absolutely

normal or absolutely: that is an axe murderer outside of my door.  Difficult

decisions.  I erred on the side of caution and decided that it was more

probably the axe murderer and, knowing my luck, it would be the axe murderer

and not normality that had returned.  I would probably have to throw ten dice

rolling sixes all at once to get back to normality, the way things had gone.  I

had crossed the bloody line with the over-unity, the dark energy.

Whatever!  So what?  My fault.  Let’s get over it.  Let’s face it.  Let’s deal

with it.  After all, it was my job.  I had been dealing with this shit all my

life.  So, what did I expect?  I tell you what I expected.  I expected the

bloody worst!  So this had gone through my mind.  I put on my trousers, put on

my shoes, put on my shirt and I started thinking: “Hey, I’d better start arming

myself pretty damn well.”  Let me tell you one thing, it’s all very well to

think, “That’s a good weapon.”  Wham, bam, whatever – butterfly knives, swords,

this knife, that knife, guns, whatever.  But at the end of the day, when it

comes down to really having to do the deal, all that is bullshit.  At that

moment in time you’ve got to weigh up which sword is lighter, sharper, faster –

but what’s the situation?  It’s quite a hard decision to make and I had limited

access to weaponry in my cabin.  Personally, on reflection, I think that a

forty-five or a nine millimeter handgun is very efficient.  Unfortunately, I

didn’t have access to a forty-five or a nine millimeter handgun.  A thirty-

eight would have done, but unfortunately I didn’t have access to that either.

The only things that I had access to were some short swords, kung fu swords,

some knives – and that’s fine if you’re A1 at kung fu, and really fit, and very

on-the-ball.  They’re bloody heavy to swing around really fast...I would have

... oh, I wished I had a thirty-eight or a forty-five!  Or a nine millimeter.

I had to face reality: I didn’t.  So I’d got my pants on, my socks on, my shoes

on, they’re the best weapons you’ve got, for starters.  They make you feel

safe.  You’re not naked.  That’s a damn good start.

My butterfly knife was nearby.  I had left it out of the box that I’d lost the

key to.  I picked that up.  I was pretty fucking hot wih that but – God

Almighty! – it’s all show, show, show.  You can make it spin round like a fan

blade, it doesn’t mean a thing.  Unless it’s in your mind to cut somebody’s

throat, you have nothing.  Personally; I’m happier with a sword or something,

you know. I had a thirty-eight inch sword.  I put that in my belt.  It was

Malaysian, a very nice antique, a very sharp, engraved sword that I put in my

belt.  Of course, I put my butterfly knife on board as well.  But, really, I

felt very under-armed for the sort of darkness that I might have to face.
 Quite honestly, if you see an axe coming, you can’t beat it with a knife or a

sword. But... I don’t know, the intent, the intent is the think to deal with...

The game is about intent.  The power of intent is greater than the pre-

meditated spinning knives around like a prat.

Anyway, I armed myself as best I could with what I had.  It consisted of a

thirty-eight inch Malaysian sword with twin-edged blades, sharpened like a

razor.  Well manufactured, well balanced.  That was okay, I felt that was a

good weapon.  I thought I could handle anybody with that weapon.  I put the

butterfly knife – it’s all very well, but if you put a butterfly knife in your

pocket, in the second it takes you to pull it out, you’re dead!  It’s too late!

 I had it there anyway as a back-up.  It’s all I had.  That’s all I had to face

this axe murderer...potentially.  Or, potentially, everything would be fine. It

 would be sunny, the slave girls would be up there cleaning fish.  The Captain,

in her stinky tabbard, would be there, everything would be fine.  That’s what I

hoped, but I knew: life ain’t that easy.

I prepared myself.  I swung my sword around.  I flicked my butterfly knife,

changed hands with it.  Whum, whum, whum, whum, fwi, fwi fwi, fwi, fwi like a

butterfly.  They are very cool but – you know – they’re more for show, more for

Hollywood.  Well, they’re fucking deadly, don’t get me wrong, but, as I say,

it’s intent that’s much more important than the weapon you carry.  Personally,

being a peaceful person, my murderous intent is fairly low on the agenda.

I thought I was as armed as I could be, as I carefully unlatched the door and

opened it without it squeaking.  Whoever had walked by my door had been gone at

least a minute or so.  They could have been on deck, they could have been

below,I didn’t know.  I thought that maybe I should just stay where I was and

wait things out.  That would be the wise thing to do.  At that moment in time,

the wise thing to do, actually, would have been much wiser than it sounds.

Really what I should have done was wait, and wait, and to learn as much as

possible about what was actually going on.  But one tends to get a little bit

bored, tense, anxious and one is tempted to open one’s door and go and find out

what the hell is going on.  So that’s what I did.