The Isle of Prey
Event One
‘Permission to come aboard, Sir.’- my memory is clear on this, now an older man, half a century old. It haunts my dreams of sailing great ships and is always the way the dreams begin. Once aboard the nightmares set off with the sailing ship on a warm night in dense fog.
You see, once I was a brave young man who sailed the oceans without even a whimper. Now I only look out at the sea from a distant cliff, where no gulls gather.
I wore stripped red knickers and no shoes. Me skin wore the sun, honey colored and with a glean. Me lips tasted the fresh salt, chapped from the wind, me tongue licking it’s flavor. Me hair grew long and wild, streaked a shade of bronze. I was a proud lad of me first whiskers the same streaks of color as me hair. I took me first taste of rum and danced a gig on deck under the stars. I shimmed robes and searched the open seas for pirates and Napoleon. Sea sickness never came near me and I never missed me father and just sometimes me mum with no tear to wipe away.
Summer wind came upon the sailing vessel and by night fall the wind was a great force - we were in a tropical storm. I stayed atop the deck as commanded. The night wore on as the storm grew worse. Some of me mates went over board and I remember their screams. The curtain of night kept me from seeing the tossed men and boys.
At one point I heard cracking and grinding - the great ship breathing with fear. Soon the breathing turned into screams of fear as if the ship were aching with pain. After this horrible sound I only remember the feel of freezing water. I was tossed about in the dark waters, grasping for air, swallowing more water than I ever imagined. Coming up for air, I caught sight of a dingy right in front of me. I grabbed on the side for dear, sweet life. With the last of me strength I pulled me self into the tumbling boat - it were three quarters full of water. I felt around for maybe a paddle - nothing but an old glass jar. I held tightly to the jar, hugging it close to me heart. I must have fainted or slept from pure exhaustion- the last sound I remember was the chattering of me teeth.
I woke to blinding sunlight and cool breezes. I were soaked and shaking. The ocean still rough from its beating it took from the wind. I sat up slowly, glass jar in hand. I scooped water out of the dingy for what seemed like hours. It must have been noon as the sun blinded me eyes, it’s heat burning the very top of me head.
Hunger, Oh the hunger! I thought the noises from me stomach could be heard for miles. I spied in the water sliver, slivering reflections - fish. I used the jar and managed to catch three. They flopped aimlessly on the floor of the small boat. Once I almost lost them and held them down with me bare feet until they flopped no more. Convincing me self and me need to survive I ate raw fish, spitting out bones until nothing remained. Me poor stomach and the thought of raw fish - it were hard to keep the wee bit of nourishment down.
That night I ly alone and found the stars a remarkable comfort - even gave them names of me best mates. I don’t know the number of days and nights I lived on top of the waves, open to the elements, until one morning …
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