Arthur Jenner
8th March 2009, 10:33
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming Ö
By Arthur Jenner
ďYou, bastard English seaman. What you doing wearing nothing only fur coat? Barefoot too! Penalty for this is death. Yes, Death by hanging. Hanging from rope! High in sky! Where you steal fur coat? Where your own clothes?
His words shouted in broken English terrify me. The cane heís holding comes down hard on the side of my face.
I wake with a start as I fall from the boards on which I have been lying,, my head contacting the stone floor with considerable force. I am shaking from that horrible dream.
As I become fully conscious I begin to realise where I am. I am in a cell. A very large cell in what appears to be an extremely old building.
Am I wearing a fur coat? I push away the dirty threadbare blanket and look down. No, just my going-ashore dungarees and a blue shirt. And I am only semi-barefoot. My other shoe must be somewhere about.
My head is throbbing and Iím conscious of a dreadful ache in every cell above my adamís apple. I stand up but immediately fall down again. I badly want to get back to sleep but am afraid I might resume that rotten dream. I decide to chance it and close my eyes. I try to think of something pleasant. Canít think of anything pleasant because of the throbbing in my head and the pain in the side of my face. Then I start to become aware of the filthy, dry taste in my mouth and the pains in my back, my legs and my arms. I swear Iíll never touch alcohol again.
My memory starts to return.
From the faint light coming from a tiny window high up in the wall it appears that Iím in a very large police cell. There is an thereís an enormous door. It is like a castle door with gigantic iron hinges and a massive lock.
I am starting to remember some of the events of the previous evening. I am cold. Starting to shiver. I try to wrap the dirty blanket around me. Not much, but a bit, warmer.
Yes, last night. We went ashore and someone suggested we go to this night club. There were lots of people. Men and girls. Lots of loud music. We were drinking. Drinking what! I donít know. Something Iím sure Iíve never drunk before. Then? Then what? Then what? Iím not sure what. I think weíre, or at least I am, running. Running? Why? Being chased? Yes someone is chasing us, me. Chasing me. Iím running away from someone or something. Frightened. I see a car. A car like a Landrover or Jeep. Iíll drive away. Itís not locked. I sit in the driverís seat. How do I start it? Donít know. Never driven a vehicle before, only bicycles. If I sit here perhaps the people chasing me wonít find me. The door opens. A policeman is pointing a gun at me. Canít remember much more.
My headache is getting worse. I think my face is bleeding. Iíll try sleeping again.
ďGet up bastard English seaman.Ē
I wake with a start. A policeman is in the doorway.
ďGet up and come out here.Ē
I follow him out of the cell and down a long passage to a large room with a counter at one end. Behind the counter is another policeman obviously an officer type. I walk over to the desk and stand there. He speaks.
ďYou, bastard English seaman. What your name? What ship you off. What you doing wearing nothing only fur coat? Barefoot too!Ē
I look down. Heís right.

John Briggs
8th March 2009, 10:46
A good start Arthur - now I am waiting for the rest!

9th March 2009, 09:55
Arthur, keep them coming, your detail is great.

Doug Jenner
11th March 2009, 23:21
Yes, where's the rest?

Arthur Jenner
12th March 2009, 23:20
Sorry Doug,as you know, there's no rest for that wicked sailor

13th March 2009, 08:23
Great stuff arthur

Doug Jenner
13th March 2009, 13:56
Sorry Doug,as you know, there's no rest for that wicked sailor

Sorry, Dad - I forgot.