Bleating Off - 4. Prompt 194..... Yachtful of Yokels

‘On a scale of one to ten, this headache is definitely a fifty or better.’ I open my eyes tentatively. It appears I am laid out on a window sear of sorts, and the room is moving…sort of swaying. I peer about the space I am in…a cabin maybe. I believe I on board a vessel much larger than my modest boat. The last thing I remember, you see, is being aboard making her ready for my friends’ return.

I open my eyes again. Someone is above me.

“Good, you’re finally awake.” He stands up. He is a handsome young man in uniform.

“Pardon me for my bad manners, sir.” He stands erect eyes forward. “I am Yeoman first class Brad Price.”

I raise a hand to rub what I find to be a large lump on the back of my head.

“Charles Manson’s the name Helter Skelter’s the game.” I mutter thickly. Maybe I’m drunk, but I don’t recall drinking anything for several days.

“Stupid of me to say that Mr Price. My name is Denham. Carl Denham.” I tell the sailor. And if I’m not totally daft, the last thing I remember I was being aboard The Venture ( a bilge reeking tank I lovingly referred to as the Annie Transitum.)”

“No you are definitely not daft sir. The boat you speak of is in tow behind us.”

“Why is it in tow? Where is Captain Engelhorn, or Mr. Weston?”

“We found the boat drifting. You were the only crew. You were tied naked to the wheel. Clothes were scattered all over the ship, in piles. All of it was stained with a sticky red juice. You were coated in the stuff too.”

“Oh shit!” I hollered. At first I half believed I’d just mused the words. Then I finished with, “They got Miss Darrow!”

I’d guess we were in a space directly beneath the wheelhouse. Doorway opened out with a view to the bow. In the water a good way off, but too close by all means was the mist shrouded peak of Skull island. . .