Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 19 (3/3) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3). 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.

The Persian Monarch was the biggest ship in the world as far as I was concerned -360 feet long and 43 feet wide - but the heaving power of the Atlantic Ocean tossed her around like the cork from a wine bottle. Black Elk's prophecy of a great sickness followed by our doom looked to be turning into a reality. The ship rolled again and vomit slopped onto the floor from full buckets. I lay prostrate on my bunk wanting the conclusion of the absent warrior's prophecy to come true as soon as possible. Death was preferable to the torment we were enduring.

My perception of the world altered by the second. Up and down seemed to be continuously interchanging. My stomach felt it was still up when my body went down, that is until they passed each other going in opposite directions again and again. The women and little ones wailed when bouts of heaving sickness allowed.

I was to be denied the luxury of death. A firm hand grabbed my arm. 'Come.' It was Dog That Stands pulling me up. 'Ponies need help.' I was dragged across the slippery floor. The bones in my legs were jelly. Laughing Waters was sliding too, hauled along by our father's other hand. Out in the corridor spluttering oil lamps bathed everything in an eerie flickering yellow light. It added to my disorientation. Although we both regained our feet, we still needed our father's firm encouragement to keep us moving.

His strength of mind must have overcome the effects of the elements. I'd have been full of admiration, if I weren't inwardly cursing him for dragging me from my deathbed. An Everest needed climbing to get up onto the deck. The number of steps must have doubled. It was mid afternoon but there was total blackness up on deck where daylight should have been. The ship rolled again and I stumbled into the stair treads. There was a sharp pain in my shin.

At first I thought I was looking at a coal black sky until the thin line of the horizon dropped back into view and I realised it was the ocean I'd been looking at. The only indication of a division between sea and sky was that the sky was only a shade lighter than the angry Atlantic. For a moment a flash of lightning clearly defined what was what but the horizon disappeared as soon as it had come into sight. A clap of thunder deafened me and my stomach descended once more making me wretch again. Although there was nothing left inside me, my twisting stomach muscles really tried to find something.

Hell was a very hot, very dry place or so I'd been led to believe. If I ever saw the Master again I would tell him how completely wrong his description was.

The brass rail on the stairway wall gave us additional support in our continued struggle upwards. Out in the open it was a world of constant movement lashed by stinging rain and spray, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning. Sailors and cowboys - all dressed in yellow oilskins - slid across the deck. My red brothers relied as ever on buckskin. Although this was an alien environment for the natives of the Great Plains, they'd been raised to face the ferocity of the elements. This was only another test created for them by the Great Spirit.

Differences were forgotten in the face of the storm and warriors from rival tribes mixed together caressing the necks of terrified animals, stroking their faces and whispering comforting words into their ears. I needed someone to comfort me but this was part of the price I'd have to pay for aspiring to manhood.

Laughing Waters and I were pushed in the direction of young colts. They really needed the attention of their mothers. Unfortunately, the terrified parents needed a calming influence as much as their babies. I stroked the head of a tiny brown and white piebald infant fastened to the deck by a halter around its neck. It couldn't have been more than a few months old. This Red Indian pony - like me - had never seen the prairie of North America. At that moment, I didn't think either of us ever would. My words of comfort were unintelligible. What do you say to a frightened animal when you're as terrified as it is and you don't know a word of Lakota?

The Lord's Prayer was all I could think to recite. I tried whispering into its ear, but finished up shouting the words, fighting to rise above the howl and crash of the storm. Were the words more for my benefit rather than the animal's anyway? The voice of the Master was ringing in my brain. The end of the world must surely have been nigh.

Copyright © Frank Beill 2006

Continued.. Part 1, Chapter 20

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