a sudden sharp pain emanated from one of his prolapsed haemorrhoids. There was time for a quick relieving scratch before Bull stirred from his slumber and caught him with his hand down the back of his trousers.
Andrew ignored Bull’s waking questions. Wasn’t it obvious enough that they hadn’t been rescued yet, or did it really matter what time of day it was, he thought. He had many tales of heroism itching to be told. He glared down at Bull’s form to find he had fallen back into a sleep. Andrew was too animated to let the moment slide. He directed a swift kick towards him. At first Bull didn’t flinch so he flicked stagnant seawater on his face. Again he failed to rouse him. He kicked him one more time, only harder. Bull cried out in shock rather than pain.
“Did you just kick me? asked Bull, stirring from his sleep, “I was having a nice dream about being back home for Sunday dinner. We were all down the Pig having a few pints, roast chicken and Yorkshire pudding…” Andrew interrupted him by pressing a forefinger to his lips. He said,
“I didn’t want to mention it yesterday, but I’ve been in a similar situation and survived.” Bull rubbed his eyes. He felt queasy and his muscles ached from the yesterday’s ordeal. He was in no mood to talk. His mouth was parched, his head throbbed and his stomach made pleading noises to be fed. “Where’s the water?” He said searching with his hand around the floor of the raft. Andrew filled one of the tennis ball cups with the water from the plastic bladder and passed it to Bull.
“It tastes like piss.” said Bull, screwing his face up in disgust.
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tasted piss and hopefully will never have to. It is clean water, it’s safe to drink and it will keep us alive until we get rescued.”
“Are you sure you didn’t take a piss in it?”
“No, why would I urinate in the drinking water?” Bull shrugged his shoulders, unable to come up with a plausible reason. He handed back the cup and said,
“So what exactly was so important that you had to wake me up?”
Andrew’s face became pensive. Bull braced himself for Andrew’s morning sermon, which he sensed was coming. He had neither the energy nor the willpower to resist his overtures. He sat up and bailed water from the floor of the raft. Andrew coughed to clear his throat and then he licked his dry lips. Here it comes, he thought.
“I was once marooned on an island with my uncle and my brother,” said Andrew. “It was after our yacht capsized. I forgot to shout, ready to jibe! My Uncle Alasdair got hit on the head with the swinging boom. It knocked him overboard and into the drink. He was unconscious and it was up to me to save him. You’ve already witnessed from before that I’m a strong swimmer. When I was young I used to swim against a boy who later went on to win a bronze medal at the Olympic Games. I regularly beat him.” Bull put down the makeshift water bailer and said,
“Are you sure you didn’t kick me?” Andrew groaned, as if in pain.
“Look, you’ve been oversleeping. It’s not good for you. I read somewhere that it causes headaches.”
“So you woke me from my dream to tell me you can swim. Good for you, can I go back to sleep now.”
“What were you expecting? Breakfast in bed?”
“Breakfast would be good actually. It might settle my stomach. What have you got?”
“Apart from soft prunes and bannock cake? Not much.”
Andrew rummaged around in the suitcase. He found the bag of prunes and threw one at Bull who caught it in his mouth. He took out his multi-tool and then cut a slice of bannock cake. He stretched over and handed the cake to Bull saying,
“Look, do you want to hear my story or not?” Bull mumbled his words through a mouth full of cake,
“If there’s a choice, I’ll plump for not. ”
“Well you’re going to hear it anyway. As I said, my uncle was unconscious and it was up to me to save him and my brother.
Andrew ignored Bull’s waking questions. Wasn’t it obvious enough that they hadn’t been rescued yet, or did it really matter what time of day it was, he thought. He had many tales of heroism itching to be told. He glared down at Bull’s form to find he had fallen back into a sleep. Andrew was too animated to let the moment slide. He directed a swift kick towards him. At first Bull didn’t flinch so he flicked stagnant seawater on his face. Again he failed to rouse him. He kicked him one more time, only harder. Bull cried out in shock rather than pain.
“Did you just kick me? asked Bull, stirring from his sleep, “I was having a nice dream about being back home for Sunday dinner. We were all down the Pig having a few pints, roast chicken and Yorkshire pudding…” Andrew interrupted him by pressing a forefinger to his lips. He said,
“I didn’t want to mention it yesterday, but I’ve been in a similar situation and survived.” Bull rubbed his eyes. He felt queasy and his muscles ached from the yesterday’s ordeal. He was in no mood to talk. His mouth was parched, his head throbbed and his stomach made pleading noises to be fed. “Where’s the water?” He said searching with his hand around the floor of the raft. Andrew filled one of the tennis ball cups with the water from the plastic bladder and passed it to Bull.
“It tastes like piss.” said Bull, screwing his face up in disgust.
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tasted piss and hopefully will never have to. It is clean water, it’s safe to drink and it will keep us alive until we get rescued.”
“Are you sure you didn’t take a piss in it?”
“No, why would I urinate in the drinking water?” Bull shrugged his shoulders, unable to come up with a plausible reason. He handed back the cup and said,
“So what exactly was so important that you had to wake me up?”
Andrew’s face became pensive. Bull braced himself for Andrew’s morning sermon, which he sensed was coming. He had neither the energy nor the willpower to resist his overtures. He sat up and bailed water from the floor of the raft. Andrew coughed to clear his throat and then he licked his dry lips. Here it comes, he thought.
“I was once marooned on an island with my uncle and my brother,” said Andrew. “It was after our yacht capsized. I forgot to shout, ready to jibe! My Uncle Alasdair got hit on the head with the swinging boom. It knocked him overboard and into the drink. He was unconscious and it was up to me to save him. You’ve already witnessed from before that I’m a strong swimmer. When I was young I used to swim against a boy who later went on to win a bronze medal at the Olympic Games. I regularly beat him.” Bull put down the makeshift water bailer and said,
“Are you sure you didn’t kick me?” Andrew groaned, as if in pain.
“Look, you’ve been oversleeping. It’s not good for you. I read somewhere that it causes headaches.”
“So you woke me from my dream to tell me you can swim. Good for you, can I go back to sleep now.”
“What were you expecting? Breakfast in bed?”
“Breakfast would be good actually. It might settle my stomach. What have you got?”
“Apart from soft prunes and bannock cake? Not much.”
Andrew rummaged around in the suitcase. He found the bag of prunes and threw one at Bull who caught it in his mouth. He took out his multi-tool and then cut a slice of bannock cake. He stretched over and handed the cake to Bull saying,
“Look, do you want to hear my story or not?” Bull mumbled his words through a mouth full of cake,
“If there’s a choice, I’ll plump for not. ”
“Well you’re going to hear it anyway. As I said, my uncle was unconscious and it was up to me to save him and my brother.
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