Friday Flash Fiction Five Hundred – On Board

~ tidalscribe.com

Tina looked out at the wide expanse of empty ocean and sighed.

‘I never want to see the sea again.’

‘If I had a pound for every time you have uttered those words,’ said Ben ‘I could pay our ransom.’

‘We don’t even know if they have asked for one, I mean they don’t seem very good at being pirates.’

Ben didn’t answer, his thoughts hung in the hot still air unspoken. Did the fact that the motley crew seemed to be first time pirates act in his and Tina’s favour or not? They didn’t appear to understand English and he and Tina had no idea what language they were speaking. Perhaps the old couple with all their missionary experience might have guessed, if he hadn’t dropped dead with a heart attack on the beach. The new widow had been reluctantly rescued by a tiny fishing boat and Ben and Tina had happily waved them off assuming they would alert another boat or the authorities.

Night had not brought darkness as the fire raged behind them. They took cover from the swirling hot ashes in the shallows. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. The wretched lines had gone round and round in Ben’s head as he licked his parched lips.

Strangely, just before dawn came, it finally became dark; the flames died down with nothing left on the island to consume. The morning sun revealed the stark ruins of the hotel against the blackened hills.

Ben walked round the deck of the small boat again as if the view might have changed. At least they weren’t tied up in the hold, there was no need, no chance of escape. When they were rescued, wading then swimming out to the boat and being hauled aboard, they had been pitifully grateful; the proffered tin mugs of tepid liquid tasted as sweet as bottled spring water.

That had been four weeks ago, though they couldn’t be sure, it was timeless out on the seas. But they could no longer hope they were being rescued. It was not kidnap for robbery as they had nothing to take. The diet of fish and rice was monotonous, but they had not died in the fire or drowned, they were still alive.

‘Never heard of the place or its people, can’t we just ignore the messages?’

‘No Madam, they have two British Nationals who were reported missing eighteen days ago. The photos taken by the pirates appear to match the couple’s work ID photos and pictures put in the media by the family. We can’t put off informing their families any longer.’

‘Certainly not, their demands are outrageous. The British Government never pays ransoms, it would set a dangerous precedent and if the media get hold of this story… Negotiation is still the key. Have we found out any more about their wretched island?’

‘Their nascent tourist industry, in fact the whole island, was destroyed by the wild fire, that’s why they want us to give them a new island.’

Friday Flash Fiction – Digital Dialogue – Absence | Times and Tides of a Beachwriter (tidalscribe.com)https://tidalscribe.com/2021/08/20/friday-flash-fiction-digital-dialogue-absence/

24 thoughts on “Friday Flash Fiction Five Hundred – On Board”

    1. Thanks Pete, yes it would be for sure, even a mouthful of sea water when swimming is vile. Ben has recalled the common misquoting of the words from Coleridge’s The Rime of The Ancient Mariner. ‘Water, water, every where,
      Nor any drop to drink’.
      I always wonder how sea mammals cope with drinking sea water all the time.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  10. Pingback: Sunday Short Story 633 – Ransom | Times and Tides of a Beachwriter

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