Published by Ray Jaxome at Smashwords
Copyright Ray Jaxome 2012
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Sure and certain, the boat slowly crept up the harbour, hidden from the shore only by the night. No one dared make a sound, or use any light. So the progress was slow, uncertain, and the captain knew that at any moment there could be the noise of armed machine gun firing from the shore. The people on the beech were hidden, so even though he knew they were there, even though there were dozens of people, he couldn't see them. It would take five more minutes before they started swimming out. If he wasn't dead yet.
The captain had always loved sailing. He thought back, in those last few minutes before he was committed, to the days his father used to take him out onto the water. They used to sail to a favourite fishing spot, put their lines into the water, and fail to catch fish. His favourite moments were when his father abandoned the idea altogether, noticing the dismayed fidgeting of the boy, and went into one of his stories. About the old pirates and smugglers of the coast, who used to be brave and strong, and not have to do the dishes when told by their mum.