one elbow still on the deck. A great mistake, a very great mistake, for at once a blinding, agonising pain, that never-recorded pain that must be experienced in the final shattering millisecond of awareness as a plunging guillotine slices through bone, flesh, and muscle before crashing into the block beneath, slashed its paralysing way across head, neck, and shoulders and toppled me back to the deck again. My head must have struck heavily against the iron of the scuppers, but I don't think I even moaned. Slowly, infinitely slowly, consciousness came back to me. Consciousness of a kind. Where clarity and awareness and speed of recovery were concerned,
I was a man chained hand and foot, surfacing from the bottom of a sea of
molasses. Something, I dimly realised, was touching my face, my eyes, my mouth: something cold and moist and sweet. Water. Someone was sponging my face with water, gently trying to mop the blood from my eyes. I made to turn my head to see who it was and then I vaguely remembered what had happened last time I moved my head. I raised my right hand instead and touched someone's wrist.
"Take it easy, sir. You just take it easy." the man with the sponge must have had a long arm; he was at least two miles away, but I recognised the voice for all that. Archie macdonald. "Don't you try moving now. Just you wait a bit. You'll be all right, sir."
"Archie?" we were a real disembodied pair, I thought fuzzily. I was at least a couple of miles away too. I only hoped we were a couple of miles away in the same direction. "Is that you, archie?" god knows I didn't doubt it. I just wanted the reassurance of hearing him say so.
"It's myself, sir. Just you leave everything to me." it was the bo'sun all right; he couldn't have used that sentence more than five thousand times in the years i'd known him. "Just you lie still."
i'd no intention of doing anything else. I'd be far gone in years before i'd ever forget the last time I moved, if I lived that long, which didn't seem likely at the moment.
"My neck, archie." my voice sounded a few hundred yards closer.
"I think it's broken."
"Aye, i'm sure it feels that way, sir, but i'm thinking myself maybe it's not as bad as all that. We'll see."
I don't know how long I lay there, maybe two or three minutes, while the bo'sun swabbed the blood away until eventually the stars began to swim into some sort of focus again. Then he slid one arm under my shoulders and under my head and began to lift me, inch by patient inch, into a sitting position.
I waited for the guillotine to fall again, but it didn't. This time it was more like a butcher's meat chopper, but a pretty blunt chopper: several times in a few seconds the campari spun round 360
degrees on its keel, then settled down on course again. 047, I seemed to recall. And this time I didn't lose consciousness.
"What time is it, archie?" a stupid question to ask, but I wasn't at my very best. And my voice, I was glad to hear, was at last practically next door to me.
he turned my left wrist.
"Twelve forty-five, your watch says, sir. I think you must have been lying here a good hour. You were in the shadow of the boat and no one would have seen you even if they had passed by this way."
I moved my head an experimental inch and winced at the pain of it.
Two inches and it would fall off.
"What the hell happened to me, archie? some kind of turn or other?
I don't remember
"Some kind of turn!" his voice was soft and cold. I felt his fingers touch the back of my neck. "Our friend with the sandbag has been taking a walk again, sir. One of these days," he added thoughtfully, "i'm going to catch him at it."
"Sandbag!" I struggled to my feet, but i'd never have made it without the bo'sun. "The wireless office! peters!"
"It's young mr. jenkins that's on now, sir. He's all right.
you said you'd relieve me for the middle watch, and when twenty past twelve came I knew something was wrong. So I just went straight into the wireless office
I was a man chained hand and foot, surfacing from the bottom of a sea of
molasses. Something, I dimly realised, was touching my face, my eyes, my mouth: something cold and moist and sweet. Water. Someone was sponging my face with water, gently trying to mop the blood from my eyes. I made to turn my head to see who it was and then I vaguely remembered what had happened last time I moved my head. I raised my right hand instead and touched someone's wrist.
"Take it easy, sir. You just take it easy." the man with the sponge must have had a long arm; he was at least two miles away, but I recognised the voice for all that. Archie macdonald. "Don't you try moving now. Just you wait a bit. You'll be all right, sir."
"Archie?" we were a real disembodied pair, I thought fuzzily. I was at least a couple of miles away too. I only hoped we were a couple of miles away in the same direction. "Is that you, archie?" god knows I didn't doubt it. I just wanted the reassurance of hearing him say so.
"It's myself, sir. Just you leave everything to me." it was the bo'sun all right; he couldn't have used that sentence more than five thousand times in the years i'd known him. "Just you lie still."
i'd no intention of doing anything else. I'd be far gone in years before i'd ever forget the last time I moved, if I lived that long, which didn't seem likely at the moment.
"My neck, archie." my voice sounded a few hundred yards closer.
"I think it's broken."
"Aye, i'm sure it feels that way, sir, but i'm thinking myself maybe it's not as bad as all that. We'll see."
I don't know how long I lay there, maybe two or three minutes, while the bo'sun swabbed the blood away until eventually the stars began to swim into some sort of focus again. Then he slid one arm under my shoulders and under my head and began to lift me, inch by patient inch, into a sitting position.
I waited for the guillotine to fall again, but it didn't. This time it was more like a butcher's meat chopper, but a pretty blunt chopper: several times in a few seconds the campari spun round 360
degrees on its keel, then settled down on course again. 047, I seemed to recall. And this time I didn't lose consciousness.
"What time is it, archie?" a stupid question to ask, but I wasn't at my very best. And my voice, I was glad to hear, was at last practically next door to me.
he turned my left wrist.
"Twelve forty-five, your watch says, sir. I think you must have been lying here a good hour. You were in the shadow of the boat and no one would have seen you even if they had passed by this way."
I moved my head an experimental inch and winced at the pain of it.
Two inches and it would fall off.
"What the hell happened to me, archie? some kind of turn or other?
I don't remember
"Some kind of turn!" his voice was soft and cold. I felt his fingers touch the back of my neck. "Our friend with the sandbag has been taking a walk again, sir. One of these days," he added thoughtfully, "i'm going to catch him at it."
"Sandbag!" I struggled to my feet, but i'd never have made it without the bo'sun. "The wireless office! peters!"
"It's young mr. jenkins that's on now, sir. He's all right.
you said you'd relieve me for the middle watch, and when twenty past twelve came I knew something was wrong. So I just went straight into the wireless office
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