Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 15 (1/2) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/2), (2/2). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

An echoing boom was coming from down deep in the bowels of the ship. Something somewhere was being repaired. The cabin was too warm and I couldn't get to sleep. I took a look through what had become my personal window on the world: the porthole above my bunk. The lights of a town twinkled like pale stars on the shimmering mirror of the narrow waters between ship and land. I was desperate to get some fresh air, away from the cabin and its smell of human bodies. I'd not washed since escaping the orphanage three days earlier and I sensed many of my new companions hadn't bathed for several days before then.

I made myself a mental promise to seek out some soap and water the next day. The orphanage had drummed into me the nearness of cleanliness to godliness.

Everyone was asleep. Laughing Waters looked angelic, if a Lakota girl was allowed to qualify as an angel. I didn't want to disturb her but I needed to get out onto the open deck to breathe. My dumb act had served me well so far, so I felt brave enough to venture out alone. With my Stetson pulled down on my head I crept out of the cabin and into the dimly lit corridor.

At the top of the stairs I poked my head gingerly through the hatch and looked around the deck. There was only the slightest of breezes. I took a deep breath. The air was fresh and sweet. To my surprise there was a lot of activity taking place. Under the yellow night-lights I could see a small flock of sheep tethered in a corner of the deck, that is if six creatures count as a flock.

They weren't there earlier as far as I could recollect. Lots of fresh cargo was piled on the deck being stowed away by crewmen. I tiptoed to the side rail and peeked over. There was a large open boat bobbing gently alongside us. It was crewed by men in waterproof leggings and those tight woollen jumpers sailors call Guernsey's. I didn't recognise any of these sailors. They didn't look like members of our ship's crew. Could they be pirates? They were making no attempt to board our vessel and there was no sign of cutlasses being brandished.

Squeezed into another corner of the cargo deck were four bedraggled looking young men. I call them men but they couldn't have been more than a few years older than myself. They weren't part of the crew and didn't look like members of the show either. One of the ship's officers and two burly looking crewmen were guarding them. I crept nearer, crawling between the piles of cargo to get a better look and to hear what was going on. A loose tarpaulin over a closed hatch cover provided me with a place to hide. 'Are you sure there are no more, Mr Bates?' the officer in charge of the guard detail was asking a colleague who had emerged from a forward hatchway together with another pair of crewmen.

'We've searched everywhere, sir. Even looked among them buffaloes but no one would want to hide there ... or with them Indians! They'd be safer with the buffaloes. Animals don't scalp 'em!' The sailors all laughed but the four young men looked beyond humour and didn't raise their heads.

Continued... Next Page (2/2)

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