The following post contains strong language
My good lady and I lay on our beach towels looking at the sky, the sound of the breaking waves upon the shore served as a soothing rhythm like the beating of mother’s heart in her breast. My good lady adjusted her briefs back into place while I finished buttoning up my shirt. For a short while we lay still on the towels, our hands held affectionately together, then I lent over and held her affectionately in my arms in total silence. Eventually she broke the silence;
“It’s so peaceful and beautiful here, I wish we could stay here a bit longer.” She whispered into my ear, I had to agree but I could see that the peace and stillness was about to be disrupted soon. In the distance I could see dark clouds approaching and a slight but fast wind was beginning to pick up.
“There’s a storm brewing ,” I said, “we had better get nearer the others.”
“Aww,” she replied. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” She asked with that special smile she had, the smile which always ate into my will power, the smile which I had fallen in love with three years ago. My good lady was a pretty girl, petite in stature and build but with an ample bosom which looked out of proportion. Her hair had been grown into an attractive shoulder length and it draped over her shoulders, it was naturally brown but she had added red highlights to give it a bit more body. I looked into her big brown eyes, two dark attractive pools of mystery and mystery which helped emphasize her elfin features. Her youthful countenance often lead people to believe she was younger then she was, which more often then not worked to her advantage.
“I suppose we could stay for a short while.” I replied eventually pressing my lips against hers in a warm tender embrace. As if deliberately set out to add to the cliché the first rumble of distant thunder clapped. I certainly had not been mistaken, there was a storm brewing.
My good lady quickly slipped on her skirt and blouse while I quickly pulled on my regular shorts and quickly made sure we’d gathered up all our items off the sand. As we made our way across the beach, the second distant clap of thunder grumbled its way into existence and the breeze picked up slightly.
“I’m so glad I travelled two thousand miles to feel a breeze like that,” my good lady commented sardonically, “I guess it’s a result of the gale force winds you were inflicting upon the world last night.”
“Cheeky.” I replied, to which she flashed her secret smile, that cheeky grin which revealed her out of place tooth. Normally she’d smile in such a way she’d keep her teeth hidden from the onlooker, but this being a smile which was almost a reflex it wouldn’t happen. We approached a small intrusion of dark igneous rock which separated the beach we were on from the main beaches. When I was making my way to the beach I had planned to make a detailed examination of the intrusion to identify what type it was, but it didn’t look as if I would get the chance so I quickly whipped out my camera to take a photo of the strata.
“Fuck me, are you still thinking about the fucking rocks?” Laughed my good lady, “people will start to think you’re an obsessive.”
I gave her an apologetic shrug of the shoulders and extended out my hand to help escort her over the rough and damp terrain. Her sandals weren’t the best choice of footwear for her endeavours but nevertheless she held her balance and found herself upon the opposing beach with relative ease. I quickly bounded to her side and we continued to walk in the direction of the boat, in the distance it looked such a long way off but in reality it wasn’t too far off. We could see that many of our fellow passengers were still merrily sunbathing and frolicking away in the sea. Once again the wind had picked up so we had hastened our pace a little. I made a quick glance to my side and noted that the dark clouds were advancing.
“This’ll be a fun ride out,” I noted out loud to myself. Victoria looked quizzically at me, a slight flicker of nerve passed over her smile. My good lady was not what you could call a good traveller and putting her out of her comfort zone of familiarity did little for her nerves at the best of times. We approached the second rocky outcrop and as before I held my lady across the terrain and we toddled off to meet the others from the boat at the beach. As we descended towards them the wind picked up dramatically and the thunder cracked loudly behind us and we now noted that the sky around us was rapidly becoming black with storm clouds. With that crack of thunder, the masses upon the beach sprang into motion packing there odds and sods together and hose themselves down in the beach showers, it was amusingly like watching a mass exodus, I smiled at myself wondering if Pharaoh and his army would shortly descend in murderous frenzy on the beach. Stop being silly I told myself, it hadn’t rained a single frog yet.
“I say,” began a familiar voice somewhere to the side of us, “you two have been gone an awful long time.” We turned in the direction of the voice and were greeted by the familiar smiling countenance of our friend Sid. A man whom could never have been more appropriately named as his dulcet vocal tones were almost identical to the late Mr. James.
“Well Vic and myself wanted some quiet time alone.” I answered quite sincerely.
“Oh yes???” He asked winking suggestively and then he turned and joined the crowd, departing with a dirty chuckle which made old Mr. James sound like a vestal virgin.
“Typical, that’s just fucking typical,” hissed my good lady under her breath, “now he’s going to spread it around every single…”
“…So what?” I quickly interjected, I recognised that change in tone. “It’ll give us some cred, I believe that’s the hip term now.”
“It’s not you know,” She smiled in reply. I noted the change of sparkle in her eyes, her temper was beginning to rise big style.
It was at this moment that the increase of wind became detrimental to the boat. Bits of sand were blowing across the beach and the tide pools were rippling significantly, the sky darkened as if the rapture was about to descend and the heavens decided to open as the thunder cracked ominously around us. The rain hammered down upon us as if it were jets from the hotels power shower, soaking the assembled company within a matter of minutes, it was this which began the exodus to the Catamaran. The cheerful captain of the boat had put the gang plank ready and had instructed the first mate and the engineer to help hold the plank secure. In a wonderful exhibition of swiftness the assembled passengers were pulling off their cheap plastic flip-flops and rushing on board. I lingered to ensure that my increasingly nervous lady had got aboard without any problems and as I boarded, the storm broke. A huge fork of lightening streaked across the sky and an almost instantaneous thunder bellowed around us causing my good lady to cling to me.
“I thought that was something of board breaking.” She whimpered under her breath.
“Just proximity of the thunder that’s all,” I cooed reassuringly and gently guided her towards the gathering mass huddled under the Tarpaulin canopy in the centre of the boat. By now the wind was very high, causing my hair to bellow out behind me and my good lady’s hair to whip me in the face occasionally. The captain had shown the utmost efficiency and professionalism in upping anchor and getting the boat sailing again. I think there must be some unspoken law of the sea of which I am unaware because the skipper had rapidly adopted the stereotypical yellow Mac and hat which is the image of sailors popular fiction loves to promote, perhaps he was living the cliché as a joke or maybe it was just a case of it’s the standard issue for boating crews. During these short moments, the rain’s intensity increased and it was so heavy it was hard to see more then a few feet in front of yourself. Darwin knows how on Earth the skipper managed to avoid bumping into things, evidently his name was not Philips. Three forks of lightening streaked across the sky in front of us and I realised that we were sailing straight into the thick of it. The wind was picking up exponentially and much to my amusement, if no-one else’s, the tarpaulin covering was drooping with the weight of the water and leaking at various places. My good lady clung to me nervously and mutter something about it being Hurricane season.
“Don’t be silly,” I cooed, “It’s just a storm, nothing to worry.” My attempts at reassurance were contradicted as a fork of lightening struck an outer railing of the catamaran. “Try to avoid touching anything metal.” I added quickly.
“You mean like the poles all around us, the arms to the chairs or the beams of the roof?” Butted in Sid maliciously.
“Sid your not helping.” I rebutted
“Well what you suggest you hold on to?” He asked smugly.
“I don’t know,” I answered, “perhaps the bar? It is made of wood you dumb fuck.”
“Tch, any excuse,” he replied, evidently annoyed at having his moment stolen.
My good lady was not accustom to overseas travel, this was her first international holiday and as such she was not used to the intricacies of this sort of event. Her knowledge of excursions had come from the consumption of scaremongering Shock-umenarties with stimulating titles such as When Catamarans Go Wrong. She clung tightly to me, buried her head in my chest and tried to ignore the frightened screams from the small children onboard and the mocking face of Sid. I gave Sid my best glower, one of the better expressions for some with a countenance like mine. My efforts were interrupted by the canopy above me finally giving way to the weight of the water and let a huge amount of water cascade from the sides above and engulf me, my good lady found amusement in this and luckily had parted from our embrace a moment before. Her joy was interrupted by the boat lurching unexpectedly starboard causing the populous slide around dramatically, then as everyone was just regaining their footing, we heard the dreaded cry nobody wants to hear on a cruise: “Man overboard!”
We all turned and saw Sid flopping around in the water in a desperate attempt to keep himself a float, a considerable amount of effort in the rough conditions but he was just about managing it. The Skipper bounced along the deck quick as a flash, picked up the life-ring, tied the robe and tossed it out to sea towards Sid. Unfortunately for Sid, the ring landed just as some waves broke and he was having difficulty in locating it in the squall. Another wave began to crest and it cascaded down upon him and Sid got totally disorientated, finding to it a struggle to face the right way out of the water let alone find the ring.
“To your left you old scrote,” I bellowed at the top of my voice and gesticulated wildly to indicate making be look like a cross between an epileptic and a whirling dervishes. However it got the message across as Sid clocked it and with some considerable effort made his way the ring. Then just as he got the ring, another wave broke and Sid disappeared into a mass of bubbling spume. As the bubbles subsided a audible silence fell upon the boat as everyone stared, almost disbelievingly at the empty patch of sea where Sid had been and the life ring bobbed uselessly on the waves. The silence was broken by a simultaneous clap of thunder and lightening fork striking one of the motors on the boat. At small flash of blue and yellow blossomed followed by a cloud of think black smoke. However we need not worry as the boat did have a back up system. I suppose that’s a must have in an area where you can be plagued by Hurricanes I surmised.
“Thank Darwin for that,” gasped my lady pointing towards the sea. Quizzically I turned in the direction she was indicating, by good fortune Sid had surfaced near the ring. Coughing and spluttering somewhat, but he was alive. He pulled the ring towards him and once it was adorned the skipper indicated to two crew members to aid, with shortly with a bit of hard labour the washed up Sid was bought back aboard. Taking our cue, my good lady and I picked him up and dragged him to the relative safety of the centre of the deck. I hadn’t noticed it during the struggle, but the wind had dropped a bit so I turned and looked behind us and noticed that the storm was passing over now and were through the worst. Several forks of lightening were dividing up the sky behind us but thunder was still rumbling around us. My good lady looked ahead and could see Guadlavaca’s port in the distance and the sun was emerging from behind the cloud, the wind however was still blowing strong enough to make her hair spread like the petals on a rose. Colour was returning to her cheeks, but the whole affair had not helped her nerves.
“Well,” Sid half gasped and half laughed, “looks like I did get a bath after all.” Before we had set off, Sid’s room had had its water supply turned off. Victoria looked at him in disbelief, colour was now certainly filling her cheeks but it was red and getting more and more puce as she advanced upon him, I knew this body language all too well, this wasn’t going to be pretty. I shuffled towards her, trying unsuccessfully to stay balanced as the she ship rocked. I found myself tumbling headlong into the bar, I always found good places to land.
“We just can’t keep you away can we?” Joked the barman as I picked myself up and I, quite accidentally I tell you, managed to pick up two cans of Bucannairo. My attention however, was directed by Victoria exploding into a frenzied verbal discourse towards Sid, I winced as her tirade unfolded.
“I don’t fucking believe you. You nearly fucking drowned and all fucking do is make bad taste fucking jokes. How do you keep so fucking calm, you should be getting down on your knees and thankful your still fucking breathing.”
Sid just looked at her and smiled at her bemused as she her tirade continued, which only added fuel to the fire.
“All day you’ve been nothing but a total cunt. Making offensive suggestive remarks about me and my fella all fucking day.”
“Would being calm of change what just happened to me?” He interjected sweetly. For a moment I saw her whole body tense and I quickly dashed to her side as best I could. I put my hands on her shoulders and attempted to massage her to calm her down.
“Relax sweetheart. It’s just his way of coping.” I said as soothingly as I could and wrapped my arms around her.
“The whole trip has turned into a fucking nightmare,” she hissed before breaking down and bursting into tears. I turned her round and let her sob into my shoulder.
“Ah well, least you’ll have a story to tell.” I said reassuringly.
“Well I suggest,” she began. I baited my breath in this pregnant pause, unsure which way her temper would go. “I suggest..” She then looked up and smiled, “we have a drink.”
“Good idea,” I replied cracking open the two cans I got from the bar and handed one to her, “I suggest we drink to stormy weather.”
This post is copyright (2011) of Michael Storm, a pen-name for Nick Griffiths.