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WRITERS EYES / ASCRIBER Uniting Writers Around The World Online Writing Group
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by
John Ryley
The Deckchair
The Deckchair
I first saw it when I was sent to get the mop and bucket from the locker behind
the bridge.
It was covered in grime, and had obviously not been used for years. I was part
of the crew on an ancient coastal tramp steamer in the late forties, and all of
the crew except me seemed as old as the ship itself.
I was a sixteen-year-old boy at the time, and still very inquisitive. I
resolved to dig out the old deckchair when I had some free time.
Questioning the able seaman who was responsible for me, elicited little
information.
"I think it belonged to one of the previous captains." He told me. "Don't you
go messing where you've no right!" he admonished, waving his finger under my
nose.
I had no inclination to follow his orders in this, and when my work was done, I
dragged it from its resting place. The sun was sinking on a fine day, but was
still bright enough for me to see that the canvas was ripped in places, and
probably rotting too. The frame was solid though. It was made of mahogany,
according to the radio operator who caught me admiring it.
"I heard it used to belong to an eccentric old Captain years ago, who sat in it
every evening, and called it his lifesaver." The radio operator was a tall
skinny man, with a ready smile. "Best not let the captain see you with that
out." He wandered off, back to his radio room I guessed.
I spent the rest of that evening cleaning down the woodwork, and checking over
the canvas. It came up like new, and the canvas, when scrubbed, was not too
bad after all.
It had padded armrests, and a padded seat. I thought perhaps these were filled
with some kind of flock or horsehair and closed up with buttons, which resisted
my efforts to free them. They were certainly a bit lumpy. As I sat on it though
I found it to be very comfortable.
I was taking the night air, relaxing with a hot cup of tea in my hand, when the
Captain strolled past. He was astonished to see the deck chair. "Where did that
appear from?" he asked kindly. I jumped to my feet in confusion. The great man
had not spoken to me since welcoming me aboard two weeks previously.
The deck chair fell on to its side as I struggled to be free of it, and the
Captain stepped round me to set it upright again. He then sat down in it.
That's the end of that as far as I am concerned, I thought to myself, but he
smiled up at me and said, "Well lad, you found it, so you can use it. Mind you
look after it though and stow it away every night. We are heading for some
rough weather."
I stuttered, "Aye Aye Sir!" The Captain rose and stood back to admire the
chair. "That is certainly a nice piece of furniture." Then he carried on with
his nightly patrol of the ship.
Two nights later, true to the Captain's forecast we ran into heavy weather. The
ship groaned and heaved, the ancient engines struggling to keep her bows into
the huge waves that were hitting us.
The storm lasted for two days before the engines gave up the ghost, and stopped
running. The ship immediately went abeam to the waves, and the seas pounded us
for hours while the engineer fought manfully to restart the engines. To no
avail. An even more massive sea pounded us for several minutes before the
Captain decided that the old tub could stand no more.
"Prepare to abandon ship!" He cried. And went forward to help launch the two
lifeboats. We all scrambled aboard, and the boats were let go. They hit the
water with a bang, and one of them broke up and sank almost at once. The men
managed to cling to ours, and some of them were pulled aboard before ours met
the same fate and split in two. We were all thrown into the heavy seas, and I
prayed loud and hysterically for salvation. This was my first
trip, and it seemed as if it would be my last.
The tramp steamer by this time had broken up and sunk, leaving plenty of debris
floating in our vicinity. The seas were so high, and I had taken in so much
water that I could no longer see any of the other crewmen.
A large piece of wreckage tried its best to pound me into eternity, but I
managed to dodge the worst of the blow, then I realised that it was my precious
deckchair.
I grabbed at it and succeeded in climbing onto it. The deckchair floated very
well, and although I had difficulty clinging to it at first, I soon found the
rhythm and as the seas gradually calmed with the rising of the sun, I was able
to relax and check my surroundings.
There was nothing to see except miles of water. None of the rest of the crew
was near, and I began to fear for my life again. The sun rose in the sky, and I
began to overheat. Then I noticed that one of the padded armrests of the chair
had partially split open. I felt inside, and withdrew a metal canister that my
probing fingers located. Wonder of wonders, it was
full of water. Old water it's true, but I was in no position to worry about
that. I gulped a few mouthfuls and it was bliss. Searching further I found a
tin box. This proved to contain boiled sweets, and
some mouldy chocolate. The sweets I sucked avidly, but the chocolate would have
to wait until I was more desperate.
The other armrest yielded another small water container, and a little tin of
biscuits. These enabled me to survive for four days, when I was spotted by a
Dutch trawler.
I made sure that they rescued the deckchair as well, and although that adventure was many years ago, as you can see, I said to the local reporter, the deckchair remains my most prized possession and I use it all the time.
Comments
This is a good piece of grammatical prose and I enjoyed it the more because I find so much slack writing on the internet. Perhaps that sounds a bit pompous but I think members will understand that well written prose is appreciated.
Another aspect that I liked was that it had a mystical feel about it but not so fantastical as to be unreal. I really believed in the characters and the story.
Well done. Keep writing.
Dorothy Spry