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Overboard, No Not This Trip.

I stood by the railings watching the waves breaking as the tide filled the yellow sands with a blue covering. The Ferry with its crew and passengers are crossing from Dover to Calais in France. Me as a last minute passenger watching the weather change, the breaking waves were gaining strength and it was as if an angry Neptune had come to show that no ships were safe that had the impunity to cross this strip of water without first having his, Neptune’s permission.

Thoughts running through my brain teasing me as if to say, “It is only down to my goodness that this old hulk does not go down to pollute my waters permanently. Why this so called Ferry is too ugly and what’s more too filthy even for the fish to make their home in it.”  “Why should I Neptune, allow such a stinking piece of Flotsam swim in my pure clean waters.”

A seaman came across the deck and in passing he called, “I would go below if I were you it is going to rain any minute now.” I decided to leave Neptune to face the storm alone and I wandered down into the Ferry to where the Public bar was open. Behind the bar was a face that would have done credit to a guy on Guy Fawkes Day. I ordered myself a pint of beer and stood swaying as the storm rocked the ship in such a way that one after the other left hurriedly the bar. Most made for the upper deck. I will leave it to the reader to picture what took place on the upper deck- At he bar were a few Soldiers going back to Germany where they were stationed. The ship or Ferry had now such a rolling and pitching motion that the drinks mainly whisky slid down the bar to me, needless to say on the return roll my beer went to the soldiers. It was amusing my beer to the soldiers and their whisky to me. Who started it I cannot say but my beer went down the throats of the Soldiers and their whisky went down my throat. Fortunately for me I have always been a good seaman and suffered no ill effects from the pitching and rolling motion of the old Ferry. On arrival at Calais many were feeling the now finished pitching and tossing and had difficulty going down the gangplank. I too had some trouble not from the rolling but the whisky, which I had foolishly drunk, caused my legs and feet to want to go in two different directions. I must admit the gangplank seemed to have a life of its very own, as I put one foot down the gangplank seemed to move away from my foot. Below were a couple of French Customs Officials I overheard these words. They were of course speaking French. Poor boy he is sea sick it must have been a very rough crossing. I could not stop the big grin that spread over my face as I heard these words from the two Custom Ladies. Yes the two were dressed in the uniforms of the French customs and excise Authorities. The train Journey to Paris passed without any mishaps and I was pleased to get into the bed in my small room in the Hotel. I often wondered how the Soldiers managed to get back to their billets. The amount of alcohol that they had consumed, I should imagine they had some difficulties getting back to their base. I have since then dreamed a few times of Neptune the King of the Oceans. Thank goodness the rolling and tilting of the old Ferry has never entered my dream world nor have the soldiers for that. Bern