twenty-four
Mr Samuels was at sea. Not all at sea, but on it. He came to realise this when the sensation he thought was only in his head revealed itself to be of the real world. The gentle swirling and pitching were no doubt going on inside too – how many mollys had he been slipped, he wondered – but he soon felt sure that it was not his inner life alone that was unsteady.
Can’t I just leave him there being rocked gently to and fro on a calm and calming ocean? No. No, I can’t. Things to be done.
Light played on the ceiling most prettily. Light reflected on water and then refracted by the glass of the portholes made for a nice shimmering display.
Can’t I just leave him there admiring the sight? No. No, I can’t.
He lay on a bunk, not knowing how he had got there but knowing that his sho
