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marooned-8

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Subject: Marooned chapter eight This story is a work of fiction and all characters are fictitious. Where any organisation is mentioned it must be assumed that none of the characters named in this story as connected with that organisation bear any resemblance to , nor are intended to represent, any character really associated with that organisation. There may well be some activity in this story which is of a mildly sexual nature, and involving a minor. If this is offensive to you, or if it is not legal for you to read it, please do not do so. Having said that, any such activity is of a loving kind and is not intended to be pornographic. Again, if it is pornography you are looking for, look elsewhere. If you wish to contact me to provide feedback, you can e mail me ook Please remember that it costs Nifty money to publish these stories for your enjoyment. The only income Nifty recieves is the donations of those who enjoy the stories, so please consider donating at http.//donate./donate.html Chapter Eight Some days I was the king of Robben Island, and Ben was the prime minister. On other days Ben was President, and I just did as I was told. After a week or so of constant buffeting by the tide the ship began to break up. There wasn’t much more to be obtained from her anyway. Now that we had firearms I could bag the occasional bird, but I wasn’t confident enough to try for ones in flight. That would have been a waste of ammunition. It was a question of sneaking up on ones that had landed. You might have expected life to be one long orgy, but you’d have been wrong. We were constantly naked, and slept huddled together for warmth, but apart from that first time, I can only remember one other occasion when we did anything remotely erotic. We kissed a lot, of course, and boy was my little fellow good at that. The truth is, even in this remote place, I couldn’t leave my upbringing behind. Ben seemed to understand this. He felt safe, and he felt loved. It was enough. After the pirate incident I took to carving notches on one of the trees that supported the wood shed – one notch each morning. That’s how I know that it was three weeks into our stay on the island and we had a windy day. It was well into daylight when the wind awakened me, and Ben was already awake. The dinghy was pitching about and the curtain flapping. I went outside and clove hitched a length of rope to each of the four bamboo poles securing the dinghy, twisting it around the dinghy’s grab-lines. There was still a fair length of the rope left, so I trailed it up the beach and put a round turn and two half hitches izmit rus escort round the trunk of my callendar tree. The trees were bowed and straining at their roots. The tide was out but would soon turn and come back. “Not climbing trees in this,” I thought. “We’ll have those bananas that are lying on top of the wood shed.” “Fine by me”, said the voice in my head, “or I could walk up and see if there’s anything in the pool.” “No point,” I thought.” You’d never get a fire going, so you couldn’t cook anything you found”. We ate bananas, but there was little else we could do. An alarming thought struck me. It also struck Ben, which wasn’t a coincidence. “We can’t expect the tide to behave as normal in this. It could come further up than ever”. What should we do?” thought Ben. “I’d suggest walking round to the leeward side of the island, but if it’s strong enough to break bits off trees, they’ll be flying that way.” “We’ll be no safer this side if the tide drives us into the forest”, Ben thought. “Okay,” I replied. So we’ll try to get around that side before the tide gets back in. Best get dressed in case we can’t get back again before nightfall.” I dressed in underpants and shirt ( my trousers were holding the woodshed together) and tucked the spare survival blanket into my waistband, then a pistol, as an afterthought. Ben put on his shorts and a t shirt and picked up another pistol. We both donned the oilskins that we had brought from the ship and set out toward the foot of the mountain. The wind, if anything was growing fiercer. As we rounded the corner of the East end of the island it became obvious that the tide had turned and was coming in. “We’d best try for a bit of height on the mountain,” I thought. “We don’t know how far it will come in with this wind behind it”. Ben, who was in front at the time, began to climb. I followed and we scrambled clear of the tree line. The wind hit us immediately, but we only had a couple of hundred yards to scramble before we could get round to the North side of the mountain and out of the wind. “Lots of bananas on the floor, ” thought Ben, as we put the mountain between us and the wind, “but nothing else that looks edible”. Something else had caught my attention. The lagoon was in full view now and beyond it the waves of the ocean, the tide had come high enough that the reef was almost submerged, and was covered by spray anyway. Out to sea there was what appeared to be a Royal Navy warship. She was bow on and appeared to be struggling to get into the lee of the island. Ben followed my gaze and izmit escort spotted it too. he immediately began to wave. “Belay that Ben”, I thought. “We need to get down to the beach quickly.” He didn’t argue but moved instantly. As we scrambled down I explained to him. “We have to stop him from coming too close to the island. He can’t see the reef and it will tear the bottom out of that ship. If we wave he will try to land to pick us up, and if we do nothing, he’ll probably try to get in anyway. We have to signal him to stop”. “How do we do that?” thought Ben. I was already pondering that. I was desperately trying to remember the international maritime codes I had learned in the Scouts, but that was a long time ago. A – I have a diver down, B – I am loading or unloading dangerous goods, D – I am maneouvering with difficulty, H – I have a pilot on board, P, – personel report on board for sailing, Aha! I’d got it, U – You are heading into danger. As we hit the beach I pulled the emergency blanket from my belt and held it crumpled together. As soon as I found a spot where I thought I might be visible I opened out the reflective blanket so that it was exposed to the ship. It was getting closer now and I could just read the pennant number F82 on her quarter. As soon as I had opened the blanket I immediately crumpled it up again, then repeated the action. I repeated it again but this time held it open for a longer period. That was it. Short, short, long. Short, short, long. Dot, dot, dash. After the fifth or sixth sequence there was a puff of smoke from the gun turret on the ship’s foredeck. A flag ran up the starboard signal halyard. Blue stripes top and bottom with a red stripe across the middle. C – Affirmative. Her bow wave had disappeared but her skipper was still keeping her head into the gale. There was clearly activity on deck but the ship was stopped. “What now?” thought Ben. “When the storm dies down enough for him to do it, he’ll try to lower a boat. It still wont get past that reef but the tide might have turned by then, so he’ll be able to see it. Meantime, we’re out of the wind here, best just settle down and wait.” Ben went and fetched bananas and the rest of our clothing from the dinghy, while I stayed where the ship’s crew could see me. High tide was around two o’clock as I guessed and shortly after it turned the wind began to abate. There was an other puff of smoke from the forward gun. The signal flag had disappeared and there were signs of activity on deck. “They’re lowering a boat”, I told Ben. “We need to get ourselves over to the foot of kocaeli escort the mountain where the reef meets the beach. Its the only place he can pick us up, and if he tries to head for here he’ll ground on the reef.” The boat was intermittently visible by then. I could see it as it mounted to the top of each wave. I could only hope that its crew would notice that we had shifted our position. I was alarmed to see that it was still headed for the nearest point on the coast. That would bring him to the reef about a hundred yards off shore. The boat crew would drown in about thirty feet of foaming water, torn to pieces by the coral. I shouted and pointed to the Eastward. Ben was gesticulating too. There was another puff of smoke from the ship’s gun and another flag ran up the starboard halyard. This time it was a red and white quartered flag, U – you are heading into danger. The duty officer on the ship had finally seen the reef and we could only hope that his warning came in time for the boat crew to react. By now there were men on the ship shouting and gesticulating just as we were doing. Ben and I reached the shore at the end of the reef and were relieved to see the bows of the launch turn towards us. As it came closer I could see that it contained three men in uniform. The waves were still fierce outside the lagoon and, with the tide race against it, the boat was struggling to get in close. “Can you catch this”, shouted the man who appeared to be an officer. A rope snaked out from the man in the bow. A heaving line knot had been tied into its end and Ben easilly caught it, but was struggling to hold it, until I got hold. We both hauled until the boat was only a few yards off the beach. The other seaman was using a boat hook to fend off from the reef. As soon as the reef was cleared the officer jumped ashore and walked towards us. The sailor who had thrown the rope followed him and took hold of the painter. Ben and I let it go so that he could look for a suitable tree to moor to. I turned my attention to the officer. He was probably in his late twenties and wore tropical whites with two stripes on his cuffs. His blue eyes were clear and unwavering. His fair hair neatly groomed. His undarkened hat was under his left arm as he held his right hand out to me. “Lieutenant Terry Hatch, H.M.S. Kent”, he said, “and I’d like to shake your hand sir because you’ve saved my life twice in one day as well as saving the ship”. “Doctor Rob Rankine, ” I replied, shaking his hand, “and this young man is Ben Virgil, who is deaf and mute, but he’s pleased to see you as well”. “How do you know that I am?” thought Ben. I smiled at him. “I do telepathy”, I thought. THE END Please Remember to Enjoy Stranger on a Train by; fty//gay/adult-youth/stranger-on-a-train/ **If you liked the story, please let me know. Thank you.**

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