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LANDFALL
I’ve decided to start posting my longer stories. This is an
adventure chiller in about six weekly parts, at times terrifying,
but holding an important message. Hope you enjoy it.
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I thought I’d seen everything the sea could throw at me. Forty years of age, I’d been a seaman since I was seventeen. I’d seen the world. I’d seen every ocean, visited every bay, and experienced the delights and tragedies of every port. And I’d seen storms. At least, I thought I had. Until this …
‘It’s going to be a bad one, skipper,’ said Henchy, looking up at the gathering clouds. He was a lanky, sort of man, seemingly devoid of muscle. But I’d worked with him for many years. He could be relied upon.
‘Are we going to be alright, Capt Mortimer?’
The question came from Moira Jensen, blonde, thirty and beautiful. She had hitched a passage on my steamer. A roving PR exec from some unmentionable multi-national, her expertise was calming the anxieties of locals in the Third World. If the company wanted to relocate a factory for cheap labour and relaxed safety measures, Moira was the kind of woman who would pave the way. When she first came aboard, I didn’t like the woman. After all, how could a fair person do that?
‘I have to make a living,’ she had said during one heated discussion on the matter. ‘And so do they,’ meaning the aforementioned natives. And I could tell from her tone that maybe she had a conscience.
I looked through the bridge windows. The sky looked angry. The wind was beginning to blow. The sea rippled, then suddenly offered a wall of water to deluge us.
After it passed and we were in the trough, I smiled and offered false hope. ‘Of course we’ll be alright,’ I said.
She looked at me intently. Her face was taught. Then it relaxed. ‘Okay, Brad,’ she said, ‘I feel safe with you.’
I’d heard that before. From other women. It usually meant they weren’t. I suppose I’m not the type of person to trust.
I barked my orders for battening down. Henchy remained at the wheel while Fist and Rickets busied themselves. It wasn’t much of a ship, but I loved her and wanted to care for her. Eventually, Fist, a big, bald guy, came in, telling me everything was ready. Rickets had returned below. He was a sickly, little fellow, but like Henchy, there was more to him than his appearance suggested.
It was then that the heavens opened and the sky vented its anger. And less than a minute after that, the big wave came.
It was a clear, blue sky above me. I always found it amazing how nature showed its emotion. It could be so angry, like earlier. But then, after the storm, such a tranquil serenity, as if nature could never hurt you. But like people, nature lies. It had hurt me. It had hurt us all. And it had taken my ship.
We had all survived. Just. And now we stood, bedraggled and exhausted, on a golden beach.
‘You lied,’ said Moira, which I thought was rich coming from a PR exec.
I looked her up and down. Gone was the make-up, the confidence, the smart clothes, replaced by a raw, frightened woman. Several buttons were missing from her blouse, revealing a good cleavage. And the whole sight offered an aura of how I considered woman should be. Of course, that isn’t new man. We shouldn’t think like that, we’re told. Which just means all new men lie. Maybe Moira and I DO belong in this new world where everyone lies.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I lied.’
Henchy, Fist and Rickets had busied themselves again. It was a good crew that could operate with minimal orders. They’d say it was a good skipper who kept it all together, and I wasn’t about to disagree.
‘What now?’ asked Henchy.
I looked to the tree line, then at the sun. ‘We have plenty of time before nightfall. We need food, shelter. We need a signal fire. But most of all, we need to see what dangers there could be on the island.’
Which meant we had to split up. Quickly, we decided where to make camp – a clearing within the trees, just a short distance from the beach – and then I left the crew to make camp and make it safe. As for Moira and I, we headed for high ground. Take in the whole island. See what we were up against. And we soon realised we were up against quite a lot.
© Anthony North, March 2009
