Black Dark Wine.
The crisp crackling sound of burn leaves under ones foot .
The shadowed sun effortlessly hides itself behind the dark shower of potential.
These are the things that make one sing in homage to the beauty of existance.
Cut short in their birth and inevitable immediate death.
They linger,as a taste lingers in the mouth, a taste of the past.
Instantaneously they bring one back, they call one back.
long lost memories of a past that was so beautifull, and yet it will forever
remain,,unreattainable.
these are a few of my favourite regrets.
Is it so true ?,truth and its bedfellow memory, have become so intertwinned that reality could have little chance of grasping the crystal true nature of existance.
An acceptance that one can never re attain those golden days of youth, where everything now seen from the clouded future appears so golden, so bright, and so crystal? Are these not the reflective thoughts of Black dark wine.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
shut up
In a world that is at war in more than a few countries.
There is only one option for me .
And that it to shut up.
The only problem is. I am a drunken sailor.
So fuck the CIA fuck MI5
I
There is only one option for me .
And that it to shut up.
The only problem is. I am a drunken sailor.
So fuck the CIA fuck MI5
I
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Chilli sweats 6
Later in the evening I went back on deck knowing It was too late to get settled and have a chance at the card action.
I wondered around a bit and smelt the air , that cool non weird air that I had
been pinning for.
I decided to go to the galley and see what`s for dinner.
I seemed to get a quite short retort from the chef , who told me to stop
bothering him, apparently I had already asked him.
I thought no more of this and went back on deck. I could hear the shouts of
exuberance from the card game echoing the enjoyment of a winning hand through
the steel structure of the boat. That`s how serious these games were.
I went back to the stern to enjoy a little peace and reflection.I peered into
the distance and saw a black distant plume of what I guess was a badly
maintained diesel engined ship. I watched it for a while.
We were doing a fair few knots. After twenty minutes or so of relaxing and
cooling out , I started to get a twitch of paranoia.
The black smoke was still directly behind us and even seemed to be gaining.
Were we running from it? nobody had told me. but that was normal.
It seemed to me that everything was on a need to know basis here.
Lets face it, what we did was extremely dubious and probably not ever legal
even in the most out of the way of offshore waters.
My paranoia got the better of me, and I suddenly realised that things were not
quite right.
I began to imagine that perhaps the other axe wealding individual had got back
to the boat before me.
Suddenly a hot wave throbbed in my head. I could see only red, I grasped out
and gripped the cold steel hand rail as my head spun, all of the hair on my
body stood up as I fell to my knees.
The next thing I remember was waking up in the small tender adrift, with the
Pointless Danger miles away glinting in the distance.
I wondered around a bit and smelt the air , that cool non weird air that I had
been pinning for.
I decided to go to the galley and see what`s for dinner.
I seemed to get a quite short retort from the chef , who told me to stop
bothering him, apparently I had already asked him.
I thought no more of this and went back on deck. I could hear the shouts of
exuberance from the card game echoing the enjoyment of a winning hand through
the steel structure of the boat. That`s how serious these games were.
I went back to the stern to enjoy a little peace and reflection.I peered into
the distance and saw a black distant plume of what I guess was a badly
maintained diesel engined ship. I watched it for a while.
We were doing a fair few knots. After twenty minutes or so of relaxing and
cooling out , I started to get a twitch of paranoia.
The black smoke was still directly behind us and even seemed to be gaining.
Were we running from it? nobody had told me. but that was normal.
It seemed to me that everything was on a need to know basis here.
Lets face it, what we did was extremely dubious and probably not ever legal
even in the most out of the way of offshore waters.
My paranoia got the better of me, and I suddenly realised that things were not
quite right.
I began to imagine that perhaps the other axe wealding individual had got back
to the boat before me.
Suddenly a hot wave throbbed in my head. I could see only red, I grasped out
and gripped the cold steel hand rail as my head spun, all of the hair on my
body stood up as I fell to my knees.
The next thing I remember was waking up in the small tender adrift, with the
Pointless Danger miles away glinting in the distance.
Chilli sweats 5
Chilli Sweats 5
I left my cabin fully armed, to the teeth in fact, well prepared for any
trouble. When I got on deck, there was Wheels, there was Sid, there was
Silver Fox. They were just doing their jobs. I looked at the wheelhouse;
there was the Captain. She looked as happy as hell. She had a big smile on
her face. There was a mild swell; we were cutting through the waves. There
were the lovely, black slave girls, looking hot and luscious, as always. And
it was obviously time we were bringing in some swordfish. It was that time of
year. Everything was normal. Everything was cool. Was it possible I could
even say anything to anybody? Was that a dream?
Anyway, it just wasn’t the right time to say anything. I just lay back, stayed
cool, did my job. I had nets to mend. I knew I was way behind so I just got
on and started mending my nets. Everything was fine. I spent maybe two,
three, hours mending the nets. I didn’t say a word. I thought, “Err...best
leave it alone.”.
Anyway, later on, the sun was going down; it was time for a card session. So I
let everybody else go down, do the cards, and I stayed on deck for a while. I
just looked at the setting sun and watched it go down and thought, “Hey, that
was a close shave! I don’t know what that was, but it was a close shave.” So
I was feeling well, I don’t know, what can I tell you? It was a situation I
couldn’t really talk to anybody about, so I thought that maybe if I went down
below shortly and played some cards, I would be able to ask a few questions.
“What’s been happening?” You know. Maybe I’d got a bit drunk, passed out.
“You guys, what have you been doing? What’s been happening?” Just to try and
find out where the time line was.
So I went down the steps, down to the rec. room and everybody was in there.
Things were getting a bit hot, people were slamming cards down, money was
changing hands. Things were getting pretty damn interesting. I’d been missing
out on some early action. Not that I was that bothered ‘cos I had something
else on my mind. So I thought it certainly wasn’t the right time to say
anything. And as it happened, it never was the right time to say anything. It
never, ever was possible. It never felt right to say anything. So I had to
keep all of this stuff to myself.
Anyway, the only thing that was quite interesting was that while they were
playing cards – funnily enough it was a card game I had invented, called
“Waffle”. It’s a little bit like “Knock” but you lay the cards down in front
of you and ultimately it became quite famous. In fact, you may even meet
people that know “Waffle” and if I were to speak to them and say, “Hey, I
invented that!”, they would just laugh at me. It was that famous. Strange,
the way things happen.
Anyway, lots of money was changing hands. Since I wasn’t on the case I stayed
clear– especially when Wheels is playing – you have to be on the case. As soon
as he was losing, he would just shoot off at a tangent, telling stories, and
the next thing you knew, you were down all your money. You were down all your
money. It was that quick, that fast. He is a vrai expert.
What was I saying? Cards. Well, they had been talking about something. They
had been talking about something when I had walked into the room: “Black Crow.”
But as soon as I had walked into the room, they had stopped talking about it,
which made me suspicious. So obviously I was very interested. For some time
afterwards I wondered, “What is Black Crow?”. It was obvious I wasn’t going to
be told.
I left my cabin fully armed, to the teeth in fact, well prepared for any
trouble. When I got on deck, there was Wheels, there was Sid, there was
Silver Fox. They were just doing their jobs. I looked at the wheelhouse;
there was the Captain. She looked as happy as hell. She had a big smile on
her face. There was a mild swell; we were cutting through the waves. There
were the lovely, black slave girls, looking hot and luscious, as always. And
it was obviously time we were bringing in some swordfish. It was that time of
year. Everything was normal. Everything was cool. Was it possible I could
even say anything to anybody? Was that a dream?
Anyway, it just wasn’t the right time to say anything. I just lay back, stayed
cool, did my job. I had nets to mend. I knew I was way behind so I just got
on and started mending my nets. Everything was fine. I spent maybe two,
three, hours mending the nets. I didn’t say a word. I thought, “Err...best
leave it alone.”.
Anyway, later on, the sun was going down; it was time for a card session. So I
let everybody else go down, do the cards, and I stayed on deck for a while. I
just looked at the setting sun and watched it go down and thought, “Hey, that
was a close shave! I don’t know what that was, but it was a close shave.” So
I was feeling well, I don’t know, what can I tell you? It was a situation I
couldn’t really talk to anybody about, so I thought that maybe if I went down
below shortly and played some cards, I would be able to ask a few questions.
“What’s been happening?” You know. Maybe I’d got a bit drunk, passed out.
“You guys, what have you been doing? What’s been happening?” Just to try and
find out where the time line was.
So I went down the steps, down to the rec. room and everybody was in there.
Things were getting a bit hot, people were slamming cards down, money was
changing hands. Things were getting pretty damn interesting. I’d been missing
out on some early action. Not that I was that bothered ‘cos I had something
else on my mind. So I thought it certainly wasn’t the right time to say
anything. And as it happened, it never was the right time to say anything. It
never, ever was possible. It never felt right to say anything. So I had to
keep all of this stuff to myself.
Anyway, the only thing that was quite interesting was that while they were
playing cards – funnily enough it was a card game I had invented, called
“Waffle”. It’s a little bit like “Knock” but you lay the cards down in front
of you and ultimately it became quite famous. In fact, you may even meet
people that know “Waffle” and if I were to speak to them and say, “Hey, I
invented that!”, they would just laugh at me. It was that famous. Strange,
the way things happen.
Anyway, lots of money was changing hands. Since I wasn’t on the case I stayed
clear– especially when Wheels is playing – you have to be on the case. As soon
as he was losing, he would just shoot off at a tangent, telling stories, and
the next thing you knew, you were down all your money. You were down all your
money. It was that quick, that fast. He is a vrai expert.
What was I saying? Cards. Well, they had been talking about something. They
had been talking about something when I had walked into the room: “Black Crow.”
But as soon as I had walked into the room, they had stopped talking about it,
which made me suspicious. So obviously I was very interested. For some time
afterwards I wondered, “What is Black Crow?”. It was obvious I wasn’t going to
be told.
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Chilli sweats3
Chilli Sweats 3
The whisky began to take effect, so I gulped a few more. That black hole
within was beginning to warm. I jumped to my feet and thought quickly, “I’ll
turn right, go straight to the engine room, attack the engines and cut off the
power to the primary coil. This should save me some time.” I couldn’t afford
to risk running into that big rock again. Everything was depending on speed
and efficiency to stop the engines.
I ran down the corridor. I grabbed the fire axe, that was nestled in the wall,
on my way by. I thought that this would suffice to cut the cables. Then I
realised: “I hope I can remember exactly how it was wired.” because there were
a multitude of capacitors and cabling left, right and centre and it was months
before that I had initially wired it.
I stopped in my tracks and thought I would run back, open the box and get out
the wiring diagram I had used. So I ran back to the cabin and felt in my
pockets for the key but I couldn’t find it. It was ridiculous! I had had it
there a minute ago, what the hell had I done with it? I lifted the axe to
swing it at the box and then suddenly remembered how futile that would be: the
box had been built to withstand an axe for four hours! “How ironic!”, I
thought. So I went straight back into the corridor, turned right and carried
on running to the engine room.
I arrived at the engine room; it was a bit late, the noise was deafening.
Everything was shaking. It was frightening to approach closer, but I had to.
I could see the diesel engines were burning oil. Possibly it was being sucked
in from the rough turbo I had made myself. That meant the oil was being used
as a fuel and the engines had little time left once they had drained all the
oil from the sump. The diesel engines were doomed.
My instinct was to cover my ears and run the other way, to get off the boat
before it blew up, but I knew I had to do more than that. I approached the
over-unity device and started looking at the wiring through the smoke. I could
just about make out what was going on. I was pretty sure I could spot the
battery connection to the primary coil. I believed that, if I managed to sever
this, the over-unity device would slowly come to a halt but I couldn’t be sure.
I picked up the axe and swung it, hard, dividing the cable in one sharp,
snapping cut. I was expecting sparks to fly and God knows what but, in fact,
nothing much happened because there were only 12 volts running the bloody
thing! All the power was coming on the other side of the coils.
There was no immediate effect but this wasn’t surprising because just the
momentum of those heavy magnets would keep the thing running for ages. Next, I
went to the diesel engines’ fuel tank and I cut the fuel to the diesel engines.
I managed to do this with the tap, rather than swinging the axe, because I
knew I would need some form of power to steer the boat.
I thought at that point that I had done all I could down there. If it wasn’t
going to stop, it wasn’t going to stop, and it was hell down there. I thought
I would get back up on deck and see what the situation was. I ran along the
corridors, turned right, turned left and up the small staircase onto the deck.
When I got there, things were not quite as I had expected. It wasn’t dark and
the waves were not the same: they were much smaller. But what there was, was
heavy fog. It was quite unusual. I thought that perhaps the nature of the
loop had been broken here.
The engines were still going crazy. I could feel the vibration on the rail of
the boat. I thought I would run up to the wheelhouse. Again nobody could be
seen - what was going on, I don’t know – I ran up the rickety stairs to the
wheelhouse and this time, when I grabbed the wheel it did, in fact, move.
Things had changed, maybe I had changed them by cutting the cable. I pulled
the throttles back to cut the engines. Nothing happened intially but I did
think that they were reluctantly beginning to slow down. Yes, I was sure that
they were slowing down.
I looked out of the window and I could see, ahead, thick, gloomy fog. It
almost had a green tinge. Yes, now the engines were definitely slowing. I
could feel them, I thought they might even stall. I swung the wheel to the
left, believing that if that rock were still there, I would miss it by doing
so. I could just about make out a big, dark, black object. We seemed to be
approaching at a fair rate of knots, although the boat was slowing, it was
still going to hit it. So, again, I swung the wheel, this time to the right,
with a view to pulling up alongside the huge, black object.
The fog seemed to be glowing green. It was a strange fog, something I hadn’t
seen before, but I wasn’t overly concerned because I knew that things weren’t
quite as they were meant to be yet. I thought that normality would return but
that it would take a little while yet. These quantum anomalies can take a
little time to settle down. I tweaked the throttles to give me a little extra
power into the turn. I was fully turned to starboard and was hoping just to
brush up against this large object.
Fortunately this is what did happen. I brushed up alongside of it and it made
a hollow, metal clank as I did so. Just from the noise, I realised what it
was. It was clear to me that it was a large ship and I just couldn’t see
enough of it through the fog to make it out, to judge exactly how big it really
was. I eased my boat along the side of this big, black metal cliff until I
came to a stairway that I imagined was leading up onto the deck of this
machine. The fog seemed to make it more spooky, more eerie, than perhaps it
really was but, to be honest, I felt like going back and getting the bottle of
whisky to give me some Dutch courage.
I cut the engines and let the boat come to a halt just by the stairway. I
threw a line over the stairway and jumped to it. I tied the boat off, I
thought that that would do for the moment. The boat was going nowhere. The sea
was now quite calm, strangely, although the fog hadn’t lifted. I made my way
up the stairway. It was a little bit rickety; It seemed to my mind that it
should have been replaced some ten years ago ideally. I had no idea what I
would find on board but I just couldn’t resist finding out.
I went up the stairway being fairly cautious. I didn’t want to fall off.
There could be nothing worse than falling into that cold, wet sea in the dim
fog. Of what I was going to find, I had no idea, but hopefully it would be
just a bunch of crew and a little bit of normality.My present mood,being a bit
negative I thought that was a little bit unlikely.Anyway, at last, I attained
the height of the deck.
I climbed up onto it. There was nobody to be seen. The ship looked like it
had been left for years on end. There was rust. There was dirt. It actually
looked a bit of a wreck. I thought my best chance of finding anybody was to go
to the wheelhouse. Surely, on a ship of this size, there must be someone
around. There was no sunlight.It was still foggy and cold and the damp was
cutting into my bones. My God, this was a big boat!
I broke into a trot to try and reach the wheelhouse. I passed nobody on the
way. I climbed the exterior stairway. There were several flights to it, three
or four flights. I got to the door that would enter the wheelhouse. It was
rusted and very difficult to open. I tugged at it. It wasn’t really going
anywhere. I thought perhaps I would try the other side, so I ran back down,
opened one of the interior corridor doors and went inside.
It was pretty dark in there. I thought I wouldn’t do any investigation, I
would go straight to the wheelhouse. It was quite spooky in there. I crossed
the whole width of the ship and went out of the door on the other side and
began to climb the stairway to the wheelhouse, the bridge.
Fortunately, this time the door opened fairly easily, despite the signs of
quite a lot of rust, and I went in. There was no noise; there was nobody to
be seen. It was cold; it was damp. I walked over to the wheel. I could see
the compass from here; it was gently spinning round. Oh, what a surprise. I
decided to look in the multiple cupboards that were spread around the
wheelhouse, on the bridge. Opening them, I began throwing out lifejackets, all
sorts of bits and pieces, flare guns, and then I found out what I was looking
for: powerful torches.
I picked up two of these torches and checked them. Both were working; I was
surprised. I thought I would go below and have a quick recce, to see if there
was anything of interest there. I used the interior staircase to go into the
bowels of the ship. It was dark and eerie and every noise I made seemed to
echo. I shouted out, “Hello!” several times. Nothing came back. I wandered
along a dark corridor. It was very long and there seemed to be cabins on
either side. Every now and again I would kick a cabin door open and shine the
torch in to see if there was anything there. But there was nothing special,
just the usual things you see in a cabin: a bunk, a sink and a shower cubical,
a chest of drawers. All very normal really, which seemed out of place in such
a dead, abnormal ship. Perhaps I was expecting some horrific scene of bodies
scattered everywhere and blood, but nothing like that was there.
I began to wonder what the hell had happened to everybody. Oh, well, I carried
on. I got to the end of the corridor and went down the set of stairs. There
again, there was another long corridor with cabins on either side. Again, I
ran down the corridor quite fast, pushing open some of the cabin doors, just to
check there was nobody about. I shouted occasionally, “Hello! Hello! Anybody
there?”, but no reply came back..
After a while, I decided this was pointless and felt that perhaps nobody was
here at all. The ship was deserted. It was one of those famous ghost ships
you hear about. I had thought they were just fiction. Obviously not. I
decided to make my way back onto the deck. I thought I would take the corridor
to the right. I should find a staircase there, leading up. I did. Eventually
I got back out on deck. The fog still hadn’t lifted. It was damp, it was wet
but now there seemed to be a slight breeze, which made it feel colder. It was
a this point that I wished I had bought that Asda jacket. How many times had I
regretted not buying that jacket! It would have been have been ideal in this
situation.
I thought that this was a pointless venture and that it was about time I got
back to my boat and got the hell away from this weird vessel. Again, I was not
filled with optimism about my return to the boat because things were not
exactly normal back there. Anyway, perhaps I could get back on my boat, get
away from this big hulk and eventually get out of this fog and see some
sunshine. Hopefully things would return to a more normal state of affairs. So
that is exactly what I did: I went back to the rickety stairway and started to
go down. Halfway down, I could have sworn I heard somebody shout. I thought
they said, “Hello!”. I stopped in my tracks, was that my imagination or did I
really hear that? Just as I was about to continue down, believing it had been
just my imagination playing games with me, I heard it again: “Hello!”. It was
quite ghostly.
I turned on my heels, took two steps up and then I thought better of it. I
paused, I waited. I thought, “I’d better have a think, here.”. It couldn’t be
anything that good in such a strange vessel. For all I knew, it could be an
axe murderer! I thought I’d pop back down and get the axe before continuing to
investigate. I got back on board my boat, found the axe, swung it over my
shoulder and jumped back onto the steps. I cautiously went up the steps as
quietly as possible, so as not to alert any potential adversary.
When I got to the top, I climbed onto the deck and had a good look around. I
had kept one of the flashlights with me, just in case I needed it. Now I shone
it into the gloom. Unfortunately, the light just bounced back, reflected by the
fog. It was no use, it was a bit like having car headlights on full beam. I
turned it off, so as not to alert anybody. It could have caused me loss of the
advantage of surprise. I cautiously walked along the deck. I listened with
both of my ears, as hard as I could. I opened my mouth to increase my hearing
ability and gently swung my head from left to right. But I could hear nothing.
Then, again, came an eerie, “Hello!”. It sounded like it came from maybe fifty
yards on. A chill went through my heart. This didn’t feel good. I had tried
to pay attention to my gut feelings in the past and when I hadn’t I had
regretted it. So I walked along with extreme caution and readied the axe with
both hands. I kept the torch in my pocket, ready to pull out very quickly, if
necessary.
Again, I heard that, “Hello!”, spooky, “Hello!”. I decided just to pull of to
the left, behind one of the doors and just wait to see what came past. Perhaps
it would be safer that way. I did exactly that. I carefully opened one of the
doors on the left. It squeaked a bit, but not too badly. I stepped inside,
pulled the torch from my pocket and shone it around, just to make sure that
there was nothing that could harm me. It was all right, it was just some form
of large dining room. There was nobody about so I wasn’t too worried and I
stood there, silently, waiting to see if I could see the person who was
shouting.
I stood stiff as a board, breathing very shallowly. I didn’t know what to
expect but I knew I was in the right position because I heard the “Hello!”
again and I could hear footsteps. Beads of sweat were beginning to trickle
down my forehead. I was very tense and was gripping the axe now with both
hands, ready to defend myself, or attack if necessary. I stood there silently
for what seemed like ages, but it was really just a minute or so, I guess.
The footsteps got louder and louder, approaching me. I tried to stay calm,
keep quiet, waiting to see who it was. Then it walked by me. I peered my head
out of the door. “Oh my God, who is that? ....... It was me!”
The whisky began to take effect, so I gulped a few more. That black hole
within was beginning to warm. I jumped to my feet and thought quickly, “I’ll
turn right, go straight to the engine room, attack the engines and cut off the
power to the primary coil. This should save me some time.” I couldn’t afford
to risk running into that big rock again. Everything was depending on speed
and efficiency to stop the engines.
I ran down the corridor. I grabbed the fire axe, that was nestled in the wall,
on my way by. I thought that this would suffice to cut the cables. Then I
realised: “I hope I can remember exactly how it was wired.” because there were
a multitude of capacitors and cabling left, right and centre and it was months
before that I had initially wired it.
I stopped in my tracks and thought I would run back, open the box and get out
the wiring diagram I had used. So I ran back to the cabin and felt in my
pockets for the key but I couldn’t find it. It was ridiculous! I had had it
there a minute ago, what the hell had I done with it? I lifted the axe to
swing it at the box and then suddenly remembered how futile that would be: the
box had been built to withstand an axe for four hours! “How ironic!”, I
thought. So I went straight back into the corridor, turned right and carried
on running to the engine room.
I arrived at the engine room; it was a bit late, the noise was deafening.
Everything was shaking. It was frightening to approach closer, but I had to.
I could see the diesel engines were burning oil. Possibly it was being sucked
in from the rough turbo I had made myself. That meant the oil was being used
as a fuel and the engines had little time left once they had drained all the
oil from the sump. The diesel engines were doomed.
My instinct was to cover my ears and run the other way, to get off the boat
before it blew up, but I knew I had to do more than that. I approached the
over-unity device and started looking at the wiring through the smoke. I could
just about make out what was going on. I was pretty sure I could spot the
battery connection to the primary coil. I believed that, if I managed to sever
this, the over-unity device would slowly come to a halt but I couldn’t be sure.
I picked up the axe and swung it, hard, dividing the cable in one sharp,
snapping cut. I was expecting sparks to fly and God knows what but, in fact,
nothing much happened because there were only 12 volts running the bloody
thing! All the power was coming on the other side of the coils.
There was no immediate effect but this wasn’t surprising because just the
momentum of those heavy magnets would keep the thing running for ages. Next, I
went to the diesel engines’ fuel tank and I cut the fuel to the diesel engines.
I managed to do this with the tap, rather than swinging the axe, because I
knew I would need some form of power to steer the boat.
I thought at that point that I had done all I could down there. If it wasn’t
going to stop, it wasn’t going to stop, and it was hell down there. I thought
I would get back up on deck and see what the situation was. I ran along the
corridors, turned right, turned left and up the small staircase onto the deck.
When I got there, things were not quite as I had expected. It wasn’t dark and
the waves were not the same: they were much smaller. But what there was, was
heavy fog. It was quite unusual. I thought that perhaps the nature of the
loop had been broken here.
The engines were still going crazy. I could feel the vibration on the rail of
the boat. I thought I would run up to the wheelhouse. Again nobody could be
seen - what was going on, I don’t know – I ran up the rickety stairs to the
wheelhouse and this time, when I grabbed the wheel it did, in fact, move.
Things had changed, maybe I had changed them by cutting the cable. I pulled
the throttles back to cut the engines. Nothing happened intially but I did
think that they were reluctantly beginning to slow down. Yes, I was sure that
they were slowing down.
I looked out of the window and I could see, ahead, thick, gloomy fog. It
almost had a green tinge. Yes, now the engines were definitely slowing. I
could feel them, I thought they might even stall. I swung the wheel to the
left, believing that if that rock were still there, I would miss it by doing
so. I could just about make out a big, dark, black object. We seemed to be
approaching at a fair rate of knots, although the boat was slowing, it was
still going to hit it. So, again, I swung the wheel, this time to the right,
with a view to pulling up alongside the huge, black object.
The fog seemed to be glowing green. It was a strange fog, something I hadn’t
seen before, but I wasn’t overly concerned because I knew that things weren’t
quite as they were meant to be yet. I thought that normality would return but
that it would take a little while yet. These quantum anomalies can take a
little time to settle down. I tweaked the throttles to give me a little extra
power into the turn. I was fully turned to starboard and was hoping just to
brush up against this large object.
Fortunately this is what did happen. I brushed up alongside of it and it made
a hollow, metal clank as I did so. Just from the noise, I realised what it
was. It was clear to me that it was a large ship and I just couldn’t see
enough of it through the fog to make it out, to judge exactly how big it really
was. I eased my boat along the side of this big, black metal cliff until I
came to a stairway that I imagined was leading up onto the deck of this
machine. The fog seemed to make it more spooky, more eerie, than perhaps it
really was but, to be honest, I felt like going back and getting the bottle of
whisky to give me some Dutch courage.
I cut the engines and let the boat come to a halt just by the stairway. I
threw a line over the stairway and jumped to it. I tied the boat off, I
thought that that would do for the moment. The boat was going nowhere. The sea
was now quite calm, strangely, although the fog hadn’t lifted. I made my way
up the stairway. It was a little bit rickety; It seemed to my mind that it
should have been replaced some ten years ago ideally. I had no idea what I
would find on board but I just couldn’t resist finding out.
I went up the stairway being fairly cautious. I didn’t want to fall off.
There could be nothing worse than falling into that cold, wet sea in the dim
fog. Of what I was going to find, I had no idea, but hopefully it would be
just a bunch of crew and a little bit of normality.My present mood,being a bit
negative I thought that was a little bit unlikely.Anyway, at last, I attained
the height of the deck.
I climbed up onto it. There was nobody to be seen. The ship looked like it
had been left for years on end. There was rust. There was dirt. It actually
looked a bit of a wreck. I thought my best chance of finding anybody was to go
to the wheelhouse. Surely, on a ship of this size, there must be someone
around. There was no sunlight.It was still foggy and cold and the damp was
cutting into my bones. My God, this was a big boat!
I broke into a trot to try and reach the wheelhouse. I passed nobody on the
way. I climbed the exterior stairway. There were several flights to it, three
or four flights. I got to the door that would enter the wheelhouse. It was
rusted and very difficult to open. I tugged at it. It wasn’t really going
anywhere. I thought perhaps I would try the other side, so I ran back down,
opened one of the interior corridor doors and went inside.
It was pretty dark in there. I thought I wouldn’t do any investigation, I
would go straight to the wheelhouse. It was quite spooky in there. I crossed
the whole width of the ship and went out of the door on the other side and
began to climb the stairway to the wheelhouse, the bridge.
Fortunately, this time the door opened fairly easily, despite the signs of
quite a lot of rust, and I went in. There was no noise; there was nobody to
be seen. It was cold; it was damp. I walked over to the wheel. I could see
the compass from here; it was gently spinning round. Oh, what a surprise. I
decided to look in the multiple cupboards that were spread around the
wheelhouse, on the bridge. Opening them, I began throwing out lifejackets, all
sorts of bits and pieces, flare guns, and then I found out what I was looking
for: powerful torches.
I picked up two of these torches and checked them. Both were working; I was
surprised. I thought I would go below and have a quick recce, to see if there
was anything of interest there. I used the interior staircase to go into the
bowels of the ship. It was dark and eerie and every noise I made seemed to
echo. I shouted out, “Hello!” several times. Nothing came back. I wandered
along a dark corridor. It was very long and there seemed to be cabins on
either side. Every now and again I would kick a cabin door open and shine the
torch in to see if there was anything there. But there was nothing special,
just the usual things you see in a cabin: a bunk, a sink and a shower cubical,
a chest of drawers. All very normal really, which seemed out of place in such
a dead, abnormal ship. Perhaps I was expecting some horrific scene of bodies
scattered everywhere and blood, but nothing like that was there.
I began to wonder what the hell had happened to everybody. Oh, well, I carried
on. I got to the end of the corridor and went down the set of stairs. There
again, there was another long corridor with cabins on either side. Again, I
ran down the corridor quite fast, pushing open some of the cabin doors, just to
check there was nobody about. I shouted occasionally, “Hello! Hello! Anybody
there?”, but no reply came back..
After a while, I decided this was pointless and felt that perhaps nobody was
here at all. The ship was deserted. It was one of those famous ghost ships
you hear about. I had thought they were just fiction. Obviously not. I
decided to make my way back onto the deck. I thought I would take the corridor
to the right. I should find a staircase there, leading up. I did. Eventually
I got back out on deck. The fog still hadn’t lifted. It was damp, it was wet
but now there seemed to be a slight breeze, which made it feel colder. It was
a this point that I wished I had bought that Asda jacket. How many times had I
regretted not buying that jacket! It would have been have been ideal in this
situation.
I thought that this was a pointless venture and that it was about time I got
back to my boat and got the hell away from this weird vessel. Again, I was not
filled with optimism about my return to the boat because things were not
exactly normal back there. Anyway, perhaps I could get back on my boat, get
away from this big hulk and eventually get out of this fog and see some
sunshine. Hopefully things would return to a more normal state of affairs. So
that is exactly what I did: I went back to the rickety stairway and started to
go down. Halfway down, I could have sworn I heard somebody shout. I thought
they said, “Hello!”. I stopped in my tracks, was that my imagination or did I
really hear that? Just as I was about to continue down, believing it had been
just my imagination playing games with me, I heard it again: “Hello!”. It was
quite ghostly.
I turned on my heels, took two steps up and then I thought better of it. I
paused, I waited. I thought, “I’d better have a think, here.”. It couldn’t be
anything that good in such a strange vessel. For all I knew, it could be an
axe murderer! I thought I’d pop back down and get the axe before continuing to
investigate. I got back on board my boat, found the axe, swung it over my
shoulder and jumped back onto the steps. I cautiously went up the steps as
quietly as possible, so as not to alert any potential adversary.
When I got to the top, I climbed onto the deck and had a good look around. I
had kept one of the flashlights with me, just in case I needed it. Now I shone
it into the gloom. Unfortunately, the light just bounced back, reflected by the
fog. It was no use, it was a bit like having car headlights on full beam. I
turned it off, so as not to alert anybody. It could have caused me loss of the
advantage of surprise. I cautiously walked along the deck. I listened with
both of my ears, as hard as I could. I opened my mouth to increase my hearing
ability and gently swung my head from left to right. But I could hear nothing.
Then, again, came an eerie, “Hello!”. It sounded like it came from maybe fifty
yards on. A chill went through my heart. This didn’t feel good. I had tried
to pay attention to my gut feelings in the past and when I hadn’t I had
regretted it. So I walked along with extreme caution and readied the axe with
both hands. I kept the torch in my pocket, ready to pull out very quickly, if
necessary.
Again, I heard that, “Hello!”, spooky, “Hello!”. I decided just to pull of to
the left, behind one of the doors and just wait to see what came past. Perhaps
it would be safer that way. I did exactly that. I carefully opened one of the
doors on the left. It squeaked a bit, but not too badly. I stepped inside,
pulled the torch from my pocket and shone it around, just to make sure that
there was nothing that could harm me. It was all right, it was just some form
of large dining room. There was nobody about so I wasn’t too worried and I
stood there, silently, waiting to see if I could see the person who was
shouting.
I stood stiff as a board, breathing very shallowly. I didn’t know what to
expect but I knew I was in the right position because I heard the “Hello!”
again and I could hear footsteps. Beads of sweat were beginning to trickle
down my forehead. I was very tense and was gripping the axe now with both
hands, ready to defend myself, or attack if necessary. I stood there silently
for what seemed like ages, but it was really just a minute or so, I guess.
The footsteps got louder and louder, approaching me. I tried to stay calm,
keep quiet, waiting to see who it was. Then it walked by me. I peered my head
out of the door. “Oh my God, who is that? ....... It was me!”
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Jonny`s Memoirs
I had the sad task , myself being a newbee, to clean out
Jonny`s locker and cabin.
Nobody wanted to do it, so I had the short f``ing straw.
I would admit to nobody , I cried profusely, and things were
made worse when I found the letter, that until this moment I
had never told nobody of it`s existence .
I include it here dear reader,
I found it profound and shocking. I had always thought of Jonny the Hook as a simple
man, but this letter said more than he would ever be able to
say under normal circumstances to his shipmates.His memoirs were quite prolific ,and I reference them in my own story.
They were after time , so disturbing to me I eventually
burnt them.Perhaps this was one of the more severe errors I
have made in my life. I am not sure.
What rested within them perhaps should never sea the light
of day. I will cautiously transcribe the one page that I retained
Jonny`s locker and cabin.
Nobody wanted to do it, so I had the short f``ing straw.
I would admit to nobody , I cried profusely, and things were
made worse when I found the letter, that until this moment I
had never told nobody of it`s existence .
I include it here dear reader,
I found it profound and shocking. I had always thought of Jonny the Hook as a simple
man, but this letter said more than he would ever be able to
say under normal circumstances to his shipmates.His memoirs were quite prolific ,and I reference them in my own story.
They were after time , so disturbing to me I eventually
burnt them.Perhaps this was one of the more severe errors I
have made in my life. I am not sure.
What rested within them perhaps should never sea the light
of day. I will cautiously transcribe the one page that I retained
and hid in the wooden box.
I should just clarify for any reader that has occasioned
upon my memoirs.
Perhaps I should put things straight, as I am sure you have
missed a chapter or two which may have pertained to the
unrelenting tasks that throughout history show the power of
human survival and endurance which I choose now to describe
and call a memoir.
I had been brought up as any child could have been, I had
the benefit of an education that in these days seems rare.
To me it had been no more than an education.
It was an all encompassing hell in my young opinion . But
now perhaps I see the point.
I say cautiously that I was not as brainwashed as the others that follow me.
In my estimation they have no chance to think.
The dominance of myself was less subtle and more self useful,
now the dominance of education is more extreme.
I feel I have been poisoned.
I am concerned the poisons within me will profoundly inhibit
my over late and complex warning to you, the reader.
That is a mercurial teeth issue.and many other toxins that
are nearly impossible to avoid.
Now I remember more . It took me years of re-self education
to break the bond that had tied my mind.
I had forgotten the extremes I have been through , and still
after many years of looking for enlightenment I have still
struggled with my pre inserted control formatting.
LSD has helped,but also caused a huge amount of uncontrolled
damage .
It is so long and so far away now, I seem to have forgotten
that I was under control.
I have been controlled. I have forgotten how powerful it
is, and was.
Now,when I remember, it is shocking how much re education of
myself I had to make.
Stupidly |I assume others are as enlightened as me , but in
the cold light of reality ,how could they be.They must still
be under the heavy influence of their parental and
educational background. I am so far from this , I have
forgotten how hard and unlikely it is for normal folk to
break these simplistic sacred bonds. These are the bonds of
guarantee of our servitude to to authority.
It Is for this reason I freely sacrifice myself to the shark
that has relentlessly hunted me and caused my shipmates so
much concern.
Sea you beyond love Jonny.
The biggest thing I had a problem with was imagining Jonny
with his extreme old school pirate accent saying this girly
stuff. I needed a stiff drink.
I should just clarify for any reader that has occasioned
upon my memoirs.
Perhaps I should put things straight, as I am sure you have
missed a chapter or two which may have pertained to the
unrelenting tasks that throughout history show the power of
human survival and endurance which I choose now to describe
and call a memoir.
I had been brought up as any child could have been, I had
the benefit of an education that in these days seems rare.
To me it had been no more than an education.
It was an all encompassing hell in my young opinion . But
now perhaps I see the point.
I say cautiously that I was not as brainwashed as the others that follow me.
In my estimation they have no chance to think.
The dominance of myself was less subtle and more self useful,
now the dominance of education is more extreme.
I feel I have been poisoned.
I am concerned the poisons within me will profoundly inhibit
my over late and complex warning to you, the reader.
That is a mercurial teeth issue.and many other toxins that
are nearly impossible to avoid.
Now I remember more . It took me years of re-self education
to break the bond that had tied my mind.
I had forgotten the extremes I have been through , and still
after many years of looking for enlightenment I have still
struggled with my pre inserted control formatting.
LSD has helped,but also caused a huge amount of uncontrolled
damage .
It is so long and so far away now, I seem to have forgotten
that I was under control.
I have been controlled. I have forgotten how powerful it
is, and was.
Now,when I remember, it is shocking how much re education of
myself I had to make.
Stupidly |I assume others are as enlightened as me , but in
the cold light of reality ,how could they be.They must still
be under the heavy influence of their parental and
educational background. I am so far from this , I have
forgotten how hard and unlikely it is for normal folk to
break these simplistic sacred bonds. These are the bonds of
guarantee of our servitude to to authority.
It Is for this reason I freely sacrifice myself to the shark
that has relentlessly hunted me and caused my shipmates so
much concern.
Sea you beyond love Jonny.
The biggest thing I had a problem with was imagining Jonny
with his extreme old school pirate accent saying this girly
stuff. I needed a stiff drink.
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